Two Hundred Arrows
by Shilyn
Summary: AU Sequel to Circle Mage. When Tal wakes up w/ a magic mark & a cranky Seeker marching him to certain death, he's not happy. Things get even worse when he encounters "Revas" again, the man who bedded his sister Rosa & then abandoned her a year ago. There's one hilarious upshot: Tal gets to watch when Rosa confronts the "Fade expert" about the surprise he abandoned with her.
1. The Sky's Shitting Demons

**Author's Note:** All right, **important note!** If you have not read my other story SOLAS THE CIRCLE MAGE, go forth and read that one first! You need to read that one to understand the full context and background of this one **because I broke canon**! You have nothing to lose in reading that one, either, since it's finished. If you have read it or are also reading the alternate version of this, "Rosa Stands Tall" where Rosa is Inky, worry not. I'm not abandoning that story for this one. I won't update this one as often as Rosa's unless I get huge demand for it. If I do I'll just alternate weeks so this one would be updated once every two weeks, on Friday or Saturdays, same as with Rosa. But for now I'm not promising regular updates. Anyway...enjoy! **  
**

* * *

 **One**

The Sky's Shitting Demons

* * *

A swirling vortex of green flickered in the sky, lightning licking its edges. Gloomy clouds half-blocked the sun, spitting snow, but Tal couldn't help but feel his stomach drop at the thought that the hole was trying to swallow the world. Just like the Seeker said when she first cut his bonds and started leading him up the mountain in this suicide mission.

 _"We call it the breach,"_ the Seeker's voice repeated in his memory.

 _More like a giant asshole shitting out demons,_ Tal thought. The cold air bit at his cheeks as he puffed, trying to keep up with the Seeker as they walked uphill through the snow. Tal tried breathing into his hands, still chafed from the manacles and the rope bindings.

The high-pitched squeal of a burning, green Fade stone tore through the air then. Tal gasped, his body rigid as he froze, reaching for mana to fight. The Seeker's hand flew to her blade and she jerked her head left, staring into the little gorge they walked alongside as the stone smashed itself on the ice and rocks. Grotesque shapes crawled out of the green-black muck it left behind.

Demons.

"Keep moving," the Seeker shouted over her shoulder. Her pace picked up to a jog.

 _I should just run,_ Tal thought. Really, that was the _smart_ thing to do. Whatever in the void happened here, it wouldn't be good for Tal. The place had already exploded once according to the Seeker and the redhead who'd tag-teamed him during a brief interrogation when he first woke. Who was to say it wouldn't blow up again? What if the strange, painful magic in his palm was the spark this shithole breach needed to tear wider?

 _You cannot run. That is the coward's answer. You are not a coward._

"Says who?" Tal muttered, then stopped dead in his tracks and scowled. Had he lost his mind? Why was he talking to himself?

The Seeker had stopped a few paces ahead, noticing he'd stopped. "Get moving, mage."

Tal blinked and stared at the human woman, taken aback. She was pretty, curvaceous even through her armor, with black hair and keen brown eyes. A nasty scar ran on her jawbone and Tal wondered how she got it. He blurted, "How'd you get that gnarly scar?"

The Seeker snarled and pivoted round to stomp toward him. Tal didn't miss the threat of violence in her angry march. The bizarre desire to stand his ground and challenge her to a fight flitted through his mind. Tal sat on it as entirely irrational and an utterly _stupid_ idea. She looked like she could eat him for breakfast—and not in the fun way.

"All right! Okay! I'm moving!" He lifted his palms in a gesture of submission and started jogging. "Sorry about the question, just curious."

The Seeker followed him now as they walked forward on the path. A gate stood open, flanked by guards wearing the new heraldry of the Divine's secret group-thing. Tal recalled seeing them walking about the temple of Sacred Ashes in the days before the explosion, when dignitaries from both Templars and rebel mages were still filtering in. The other mercenaries in the Valo-Kas hadn't cared about this new group and Tal had followed suit in that lack of interest. Still, their heraldry seemed to appear more and more often. The guards in Tal's cell had been wearing the same armor with that symbol of the eye and the sword.

Thinking of the Valo-Kas made Tal's eyes get hot and his heart hurt. He'd been with them only a few months but he made friends with most of the Tal-Vashoth quickly, sometimes preferring their company to the other Dalish who'd joined with him. How many of them had been on duty when the Conclave blew? Herah? Kaaras? Sataa? Shokrakar? What about the dwarves, Edric and Malika?

He swallowed hard as his thoughts kept going: _Mahanon, Lerand, and Arvin._ The names of his fellow Dalish were like cold ice chunks in his belly as the certainty solidified inside him that they must all be dead. Shokrakar had had them all on duty at about the same time, preferring to use the elves with their greater experience in combating magic during the mornings when the Divine always saw the rebel mage leaders. Tal's last memory was of being on duty with his clansman Arvin inside the courtyard, trying to avoid the older man's endless lectures on Tal's duties to the clan. In that moment he'd wished more than anything to get away, escape Arvin's watchful, judgmental eye…

And now the old man was probably dead. Those ice chunks in Tal's belly seemed to grow heavier. He didn't let himself consider Mahanon. No, that could wait.

The piercing screech of another burning Fade stone hit Tal's ears. He flinched, realizing his mind had wandered, and tossed a barrier over himself and everyone nearby on instinct just before the rock struck the stone bridge. Tal fell in a jumble of tumbling gray stones, dust, and screaming humans. Cold ice met him and he landed in a clumsy sprawl, cursing through gritted teeth.

Ahead a green-black wad of Fade ether bubbled until two shades pulled themselves out of the muck. The Seeker, having landed on her feet, catlike, drew her sword with a ring of metal. "Stay behind me," she ordered and then charged forward.

The sight of it made something quiver inside Tal. He blinked, baffled, as he realized that was… _excitement?_ He admired the way the Seeker advanced on her quarry, holding her shield raised to protect herself and then strike when opportunity presented itself. She had excellent form and timing. It was a wonder anything had ever managed to slice her to give her that scar.

A gurgling noise drew his attention and Tal saw the second shade break off and come slithering over the ice and snow and debris, heading toward him. "Shit sticks," he cursed and scrambled his way up to his feet. Mana came to him easily, bubbling and energetic. Tal lobbed a fireball at the demon and then switched to winter's grasp, using one arm to make the spinning motion without a staff.

As the spell slowed the demon Tal's eye caught the glimmer of metal in the rubble a few paces away. His heart leapt as he recognized a staff. Lunging over to it, Tal snatched it up and spun it as he summoned storm magic. Lightning arced between the demon closest to him and the one the Seeker fought. Tal whooped with a thrill as both demons dissolved, dying at his blow. "Fuck yeah!"

The Seeker wheeled around to face him, sword and shield still drawn. "Drop your weapon!"

Tal stared at her, frowning. _Bad idea,_ he thought. He didn't want to be disarmed but… _fenedhis,_ wouldn't it be thrilling to show how _brave_ he could be by fighting weaponless? His fingers twitched, as if some invisible force kept him from letting go but also kept him from refusing outright.

"Uh…"

The Seeker glared at him, waiting.

Finally Tal blurted, "Do I have to? Really?"

The Seeker's posture eased. "No." She sheathed her blade and let out a little puff. "I cannot expect you to be weaponless with the sky raining demons."

"Glad you see it my way," Tal said, smirking. He spun the stave, getting a feel for its balance. It was anything but balanced, wobbling awkwardly, and the wrapping at the handle flopped and felt sticky. He winced when he caught a rough patch and got a splinter.

"Creators dammit." He sucked on his palm, trying to pick the splinter out with his teeth. "Maybe you were right after all, Seeker. I _should_ drop this thing." When he felt the little wooden burr between his teeth he turned and spat. Looking back, Tal saw the Seeker frowning at him almost quizzically. But…was that a little glimmer of amusement? Or was it just annoyance?

He grinned and explained, "Splinter."

The Seeker grunted in what might have been acknowledgement or maybe amusement, then turned on her heel and started marching again. "Come, mage."

"I've got a name," Tal told her, trotting to walk at her side.

"I never would have suspected," she replied grumblingly.

"It's Tal," he said, ignoring her sarcasm. "Short for Talassan. I was named after my father." He smirked at her, though she didn't meet his gaze. _I am going to make you laugh before we die,_ he thought and set the goal. Best to think about _that_ rather than the shit-storm his life had become.

The green light in his hand crackled, aching bone-deep. Tal shook it out absently and tried not to think about that either. _Never liked that hand anyway._

"You know what my name means?" Tal asked, determined to keep chatting even though the Seeker clearly had no interest in anything but marching them both straight to the asshole of the void itself. She didn't answer or acknowledge him, but Tal didn't let that stop him. He'd had lots of one-sided conversations in life. Like the time he chatted up snails as a child, alone and shunned by most of his clan at the Keeper's orders. Or the time he'd talked to the Enavuris river, singing it a little tune his father sung for him before leaving in the night on some mysterious errand as usual. Or when he walked with Templars in a caravan as a captive, a Circle mage they had to escort from Hasmal to…well, he forgot where, exactly, because he escaped and never got there. But he'd chattered at the Templars then, too, just to ease the tension and boredom. He wasn't about to stop now.

"Talassan means two-hundred arrows," he said. "Nice, right? Don't you wish your soldiers had two-hundred arrows each right now? You know, I am a mage, but I am _killer_ with a bow. I had to be. My clan trained me up as a hunter because our Keeper was an ass."

The Seeker said nothing as they marched on.

* * *

Eventually the Seeker led Tal to a bit of ruins where a greenish blob hung in the air, groaning and dripping Fade ether, spewing demons that a handful of soldiers fought at its base. "A rift!" she cried and drew her sword, leaping down to join the fray.

Tal hesitated, considering how easy it'd be to slip away now. He could take on invisibility and then—he flinched as something jerked inside him, repulsed. _Coward._

"Fuck off," he grumbled, glaring out at the snowy patch where human soldiers fought shades spilling out of the green…rift? Tear? Mini-breach? Tiny demon spewing void-asshole? Whatever it was, it was dangerous and Tal really preferred running. His left hand had crackled, gleaming the same green as the thing spewing the demons. Fade-magic, or Fade ether related, somehow. He scowled down at his hand, wondering if the invisibility spell would hide the glow of the damnable mark or if the Seeker would be able to track him down when he glowed like a firefly.

Then Tal's eyes landed on two nonhumans fighting below and his mouth fell open with shock as he recognized them. The dwarf was a writer he'd met in the Hasmal Circle, who'd also been detained by Seeker Pentaghast. The other was an elven mage, bald and tall and surprisingly broad for one of the People.

 _Revas._ He frowned, hands clenching into fists. _You son of a bitch!_

He leapt off the ledge now, hurrying as he cast at the demons. His crappy stave gave him another splinter and he cursed it with pain but kept on casting. Lightning, fire, and spirit in rapid bursts. He wished he had his sister's talent for summoning Fade rock because it was so satisfying to clobber demons with the stones, but his fireballs were powerful enough as they burned the shades into ash.

Then, suddenly, Revas was at his side, grabbing his wrist. "Quickly, before more come through!" He pulled Tal toward the green blob in the air and thrust his left palm up to it. Pain tore at Tal's bones and muscles. He squirmed, gritting his teeth, trying to brace against it and endure it. Finally an instinct—or maybe it was just that that asshole Revas released his wrist—made Tal clench his fist and jerk down. The green blob hissed and flickered, diminishing with a spurt of green ether.

And then it was gone. The ruins and the mountains directly around them were suddenly silent except for the ragged breathing of the soldiers who'd survived. All of them stared at Tal, eyes wide with some emotion that made him fidget.

"What?" he blurted. Did he have a booger hanging out of his nose? He _had_ sneezed earlier and shot out a bit of snot. The Seeker had noticed and sneered with disgust and that made Tal wonder if maybe she _couldn't_ laugh. Blowing out snot was _always_ funny.

"It is as I suspected," Revas said then, breaking the silence with a tight smile. "I theorized the mark on your hand could close the rifts that have opened in the breach's wake. It seems I was correct."

Tal bristled and shot Revas a glare. Words bubbled up inside him, curses mostly. _Why are you alive? It would be easier if you were dead, you bastard. Then all the times I defended you to Rosa wouldn't feel like I betrayed her._ Forcing a smile onto his lips, he said, "Hi there, Revas. Long time no see."

Now Tal saw the remorse darkening the other man's blue eyes a moment before he looked away. "It is good to see you," he said, though he sounded hesitant and his expression was almost wary.

Tal forced a smile onto his lips; though doing so made his guts twist up to the point of pain. It was as if something inside him actively fought his feigned friendliness. "Sure is," he said, though he felt his mouth quirking down and knew his eyes would give him completely away. A heartbeat later he blurted, "Where the fuck were you the past year?"

Revas stared at him, brow furrowed slightly and his blue eyes pained.

Tal wanted to curse himself. Where was his usual charisma and charm? Usually he could fudge and schmooze his way through encounters far more awkward and tense than this one. Now it was all he could do to bite his tongue to keep the resentment he felt toward this man for abandoning Rosa from boiling over into murderous rage.

"I had other responsibilities," Revas replied in a low voice, somber and sad.

A little dizzy spell made Tal grimace and shake his head, trying to clear it and suppress the anger. That righteous indignation and rage was so… _odd._ He opened his mouth to answer only to break off when Varric came trotting over. The dwarf puffed, winded slightly from the battle, and carried his infamous crossbow still in his arms. "Stoic!" he said, grinning. "Revas said you were the Seeker's prisoner, the sole-survivor. Andraste's ass. I didn't believe it!"

"Well," Tal said, spreading his arms. "Believe it, I guess. Though, honestly, I'm not sure _I_ believe it most of the time." He grinned now. "Do you still have that flask of whiskey like you did in the Circle?"

Laughing heartily, Varric holstered his crossbow onto his back and opened his coat. A second later he produced a silver flask and lifted it, shaking it to let Tal hear the musical alcohol tinkling inside. "You know me so well, Stoic. I always come prepared."

"Creators bless you, man," Tal said and grabbed the flask from Varric. As he unscrewed it he caught Revas eyeing him with a small frown. The broiling rage rose up again. Tal pivoted and took a step closer to Revas, mana bubbling with eagerness and his free hand clenching into a fist. "What's your problem?" he snapped.

He glowered at Revas, daring him to respond as he lifted the flask to his lips and took the first few mouthfuls of precious, liquid fire. Then the Seeker barreled into their little reunion, having finished chatting with the soldiers. Her brow furrowed as she spotted the flask and, fast as lightning, she grabbed Tal's wrist. "Give me that."

Tal spluttered, choking as the Seeker took the alcohol away with a sneer. "Have you no common sense?" she asked as she thrust out one gloved hand, waiting for Tal to hand over the cap. "We will be fighting for our lives. None of us can afford to be inebriated." Tal, stupefied, handed the cap over to her and watched as she screwed it back on and then shoved it at Varric. "Do not give the prisoner alcohol again, _Varric."_ She spat the dwarf's name like a curse.

"What?" Varric rejoined, tucking the flask away. "He just closed the rift! I'd say he's earned a little celebration. Besides, there's not enough left to get anyone drunk."

The Seeker huffed disgustedly and then looked at Revas, asking him about closing the rift and the mark on Tal's hand.

Tal clenched his jaw and stared down at his boots, waiting for this suicide march to continue as he debated with what, if anything, he should say to Revas about Rosa…and then he wondered why neither the dwarf nor Revas had asked about her…but the answer was obvious, probably. The Seeker and her people must have questioned Shokrakar and the other Valo-Kas who _didn't_ die in the Conclave explosion. They would know who was and wasn't a member of the mercenary party. Revas and Varric must have learned Tal was here without his sister.

But…did they know _why?_

As they set off again, heading for the Seeker's forward camp, Tal fell behind to walk beside Varric. Revas and the Seeker trudged on ahead. He didn't trust himself to talk civilly to Revas so it had to be Varric—even though he felt queasy and kept hearing a voice cursing him for being a _"coward"_ and taking the _"the coward's path"_ in avoiding his sister's cold, aloof lover.

"So," Tal said, clearing his throat as they walked, crusty snow crunching underfoot. "Want to hear the most awkward thing?"

Varric smirked. "I'm all ears, Stoic. I love gossip."

"Well," Tal said, clapping his hands together and rubbing them. "Revas and my sister were an _item_ last year. He left her for Dirthamen knows what and why, but he promised to come back and…" Tal snarled to himself, shaking his head.

Varric grunted. "I never would have taken Chuckles for that kind of guy to be honest." His brown eyes searched over Tal, keen and observant. "You okay there, Stoic?"

Blowing out a breath, Tal scowled. "I'm…not sure." He wrinkled his nose, staring off at Revas. "I kinda want to punch him in the face. Like a lot, actually." He swallowed. "What, ah, what exactly do you and shithead up there _know_ about the Valo-Kas? The mercenaries I came to the Conclave with…?"

Varric shrugged, sobering. "I know a lot of them are dead now." He smiled sadly. "Actually, funny thing, Revas was the one who watched over you when you were unconscious. He did mention Violet when I asked. She didn't come to the Conclave with the mercenaries…?"

"Yeah," Tal admitted, grimacing. "She…wasn't feeling up to it." He wanted to spin a lie but saying the words felt like chewing glass. _Coward._ He should march up to Revas, challenge him to a duel, and reveal the truth to the honorless bastard.

There was that… _oddness_ again.

"Well," Varric said, chuckling darkly. "Seems like Violet was smarter than all of us. Luckier, too."

"Yeah," Tal agreed, trying to breathe deeply to ease that volatile anger still burning inside. He needed to _fight_ something, anything…

Almost as if in answer to this thoughts, Tal heard the groan of another of those green blobs…the smaller tears in the Veil. Little demon-spewing assholes.

"All right," he shouted, heart thundering with raw excitement as he drew his staff. "Let's do this bitch!"

Varric had only just reached for Bianca as Tal Fade-stepped forward into battle, charging past both the Seeker and Revas. When a wraith flung caustic spirit magic at him Tal let it smash into him, burning. He embraced the pain, gritting his teeth, with no thought to a barrier at all. He flung fireballs and dodged, spinning about to use his stave like a sword so he could thwack the nearest wraith. "Die, filth," he shouted.

And then a shade came slithering for him. It pounded Tal with its fists and Tal took that blow too, heedless of the pain even as he felt a little trickle of blood flow from his nose. "Is that all you've got, fuck face?" he yelled and then sent a lightning bolt crackling over the battlefield.

More caustic spirit magic slammed into him and Tal staggered, almost falling to his hands and knees. He blinked down at the snow as he felt the tingle of friendly magic wash over him and realized Revas had tossed a barrier over him. Turning round, Tal hurled more fireballs at the wraith that had attacked him, uncaring that his nose hurt from the shade's blow or that his skin burned from the spirit magic hits he'd taken.

He was dizzy from the frenzy of attacking when the last demon died. Revas shouted at him to close the rift and he had to swallow his rage all over again, sitting on the impulse to go over and try to get Revas to fight him. With great effort, Tal lifted his palm to the rift and let the strange magic of it close the green blob off with a gurgle of Fade ether.

When it was over the Seeker called for the men on the other side of the gates to open. They did so, shouting and cheering at Tal's success. Tal grinned, beaming at the recognition even as a niggling worry grew in his mind. He wiped at the moisture trickling from his nose and scowled at the sight of red blood on his hand.

"You fight like you have some anger issues to work off," Varric told him, clapping him on the shoulder as they walked onto the stone bridge of the ruins that must be the "forward camp."

"Yeah," Tal muttered, sniffing. "Maybe I do." Except he didn't. Rosa and _babae_ —Felassan—had taught him to fight and it wasn't like _that._ Sure, Tal had hurled fireballs and lightning, but he hadn't bothered defending himself at all. Now he could already feel his body's fatigue from the fight. He had plenty of mana still, maybe even more than usual, but that was _not_ the right way to fight. Yet, for some reason, Tal had lost all sense when fighting the demons. It wasn't like him. How could he forget everything he'd been taught just like that?

He considered it while the Seeker talked with the redhead who'd questioned him when he first awoke and a pompous old man from the Chantry. Tal phased out most of their conversation until the old man was stabbing a finger in his face and demanding he be shackled. Fire leapt into Tal's hands before he could stop it and everyone around him gasped with alarm. The Seeker's hand went to her blade and the redhead woman looked as though she would draw the bow strapped to her back.

Tal sniffed at the blood oozing from his nose, clenching his jaw as he forced himself to release the magic and grinned, trying to disarm everyone. "Sorry. You startled me Roddick."

" _Roderick,"_ the Chantry man retorted with a sneer.

"Dick," Tal said with a shrug. "Close enough."

"Why you—"

"Enough," the Seeker interrupted, moving to stand between the old man and Tal. "The prisoner is the only one who can close rifts. We need him."

 _We don't need the old man,_ Tal thought but bit back the words. The mana still frothed in his core, overeager. Fighting the demons from the rift outside the gates hadn't been enough.

 _This isn't right,_ he thought, frowning. _This isn't me._ He'd never had trouble with impulse control, never lapsed in self defense during a fight. Creators, he halfway felt as though he'd challenge a high dragon herself to fight just for the thrill…

Then realization hit him and he cursed aloud, blustering. "Shit. Fuck. Shit-fuck-shit-dammit to the Void."

The humans, Varric, and Revas were all staring at him with varying expressions of dismay, annoyance, or suspicion. Tal felt his cheeks flush hot with humiliation—but also horror. "Sorry," he muttered and then, though his stomach twisted with an impotent rage that wasn't his own, he turned on his heel and started to stomp away, back the way they'd come.

"Stop!" the Seeker shouted. "Stop, mage!"

"I have a name," Tal grumbled, but he kept going. He had to, even though that _other_ inside him writhed with loathing. _You are a coward,_ da'len. _Turn back. Face the threat. You_ must _do what is right and what is brave!_

"Kiss my ass," he snarled at that other inside him and then dared speak its name: "Rogathe."

Somehow, sometime, he managed to wind up possessed by his sister's friendly spirit of bravery.

He heard and sensed magic behind him then. A cold air burst on his back from Fade-stepping. He whipped around; fire in his hands. Sure enough he saw Revas reaching for him. Tal snarled and flung a fireball at the other man. "Son of a bitch," he yelled. "Fuck off! Run away and leave just like you left Rosa!"

The fireballs were ineffectual, breaking on Revas' powerful barrier. _Shit,_ Tal thought. Revas had grown a lot in power from their last duel in the Hasmal Circle when he'd barely had enough mana to fight at all. He didn't think to use a barrier of his own in the brief scuffle as Revas grabbed his wrist. Tal almost laughed with triumph when he saw the other man grimace with pain from the fire burning in Tal's hands. But then he felt familiar magic hit him. It was the sleep spell his father had taught him, long forgotten by others.

Well, that basically confirmed what Rosa wouldn't tell him about her lover. Revas had to be Elvhen like their father to know that spell. Or the son of an Elvhen survivor.

"Fuck," Tal cursed and then the blackness closed over him.

* * *

Tal woke with a jolt to the slapping sound of flesh on flesh. Gasping, he opened his eyes and saw red crystals and stone around him. He lay against cold gray rock and Revas was knelt at his side. Past the other elf Tal saw the green tear of the breach. Stones hovered impossibly in the air and Tal's skin prickled with the strange magic here and the thinness of the Veil.

His cheek also stung from both a physical blow and a spell. Revas had cancelled out the sleep spell with some other magic to waken him.

"You bastard," Tal growled, glowering at the older man.

"We can speak later," Revas said, his brow furrowed and his lips pinched. His hand snatched up Tal's left wrist. "You are needed now. You must seal the breach." His blue eyes softened with a touch of desperation. "Please."

Tal swallowed, trying to contain the dangerous heat of rage simmering inside. _"It's Rogathe,"_ he said, using elven in case anyone could overhear him. _"Its inside me. I don't know how or when."_

Revas' eyes widened. He went still for a moment and then his gaze flicked to the rocks off to Tal's right and left, as well above them. "I see," he murmured, muscles in his jaw flickering. When he looked down to Tal again he nodded as though he had come to a decision. "I will stay close to you in the battle to come and I will ensure we send Rogathe back to the Fade—assuming we survive this."

Tal managed to dredge up a smile. On this topic he knew Revas was trustworthy. He'd helped Rosa when Rogathe possessed her, too.

But to get to that he'd need to survive and redeem himself from when he lost his nerve at the forward camp and tried to flee. His nose ached. The shade from earlier had really walloped him, apparently. Nothing but to get to it. "Okay. I'll take that. Not like I want them to kill me as an abomination."

Revas nodded again and extended his hand out, ready to help Tal up. "I will ensure it does not come to that."

Tal snorted at the other elf's confidence and then grabbed his hand. He drew out his shitty stave and faced the breach high above. He expected to feel a twinge of fear or trepidation at whatever was about to happen—and his gut promised it wouldn't be good—but his heart thundered in his ears with excitement only. _A fight!_

He sighed. "Fuck you, Rogathe," he grumbled and then thrust his left palm up to the rift, wincing at the pain. "Let's close this bitch!"

* * *

After Tal stabilized the breach he lost consciousness. Solas volunteered to carry him, as he had when he had knocked out the young elf. This time the Seeker, Sister Nightingale, and the Commander of the fledgling Inquisition didn't try to suggest Tal be manacled. Solas had tried to explain away Tal's brief flight on the bridge at the forward camp with moderate success, but it was stabilizing the breach and closing the rifts that _truly_ protected Tal and impressed the humans.

The Anchor had stabilized miraculously with the breach, mirroring one another like conjoined twins. Solas managed to convince Leliana and Seeker Pentaghast to allow him to stay near to Tal, to tend his mark as needed. The reluctant and crotchety herbalist was happy enough to let Solas take over caring for the young elven mage, but Leliana often placed one of her scouts in the room with him during his visits with Tal. She knew Tal and Solas had a past history, having both been members of the Hasmal Circle around the time it rebelled. The Seeker knew of Tal less than she did Rosa, but the coincidence that these two mages from Hasmal should be here at the Conclave was indeed suspicious. Solas was grateful all over again that Rosa wasn't present. Had she been here at Haven and somehow managed to survive the explosion too, it would have cast another layer of suspicion on himself and Tal.

He tried not to let himself consider Rosa. After discovering—to his utter shock and complete horror—that the Anchor had been bestowed on _Tal_ , he'd immediately searched the Fade for some sign of Tal's sister. Dread and shame had already been heavy on him, not just for abandoning Rosa and now inadvertently condemning her brother, but also for all the lost life at the Conclave for _no reason._ All of his plans had gone awry. The orb was gone. Corypheus showed no sign of being dead ad he'd intended. But the Divine and hundreds, perhaps thousands of others were.

It was a mercy he did not deserve, a relief had had not earned, when he felt Rosa in the Fade. As two Dreamers they often felt one another as distant echoes. Solas could block himself from Rosa with techniques he knew from Elvhenan, when Dreamer warfare and subterfuge had been everyday affairs. Rosa did not know those tricks and so she was as easy to detect as the moon in the night sky for Solas. He had only to look.

He never approached her and didn't dare enter her dreams. The moment he did that he knew he would falter and give into temptation. The past year had been torturous as he fought his own intense desire to return to her, take comfort in her presence and share pleasure. But happiness, even fleeting, wasn't something he deserved and he could not deceive Rosa knowing who and what she was—the daughter of his long time friend and agent, Felassan, whom he'd killed last fall.

Watching Tal as the youth slept only twisted the dagger pain of loss and shame in his chest. Tal had dark hair where Felassan had pale blond hair, but otherwise he very much resembled his father. Now that he knew what to look for Solas saw the familiar lip shape, ears, eyes, and long, Elvhen featured face in the youth's profile. He'd thought Tal resembled Mythal's sons and grandsons when he'd first met the siblings in the Circle. Now he knew why.

 _Ir abelas,_ he thought at Tal's sleeping form as he held the young man's left hand and brushed his thumb across the Anchor imbedded there. _You and your sister do not deserve any of this._

* * *

After six straight days with no sign of her brother or Mahanon in the Fade, Rosa started bursting into hysteric tears at any quiet moment she wasn't distracted. Deshanna and Ashani, clan Lavellan's healer and mother to Mahanon, advised she relax and drink calming teas. So she did, huddled in halla and bear pelts as she sat around the hearth fire and listened to Negan, the clan's hunt master, tell the children stories of the Creators.

"Once, long ago, Andruil, great goddess of the hunt, grew tired of chasing everyday animals for sport and meat," the old man said in his rasping voice. "So, she decided to take up her greatest weapons and to stalk the Forgotten Ones and the terrible beasts in the Void itself."

Deshanna, sitting beside Rosa, hummed in the back of her throat. "My dreams have been troubled lately," she commented, her breath fogging out. "I look to the southwest at night and there's a glow there on the horizon since the day we heard the thunderous crack in the cloudless sky." She turned her head, her brown eyes glittering orange in the firelight. "Have you noticed anything in your Fade-walking, _da'len?"_

Rosa sipped at her tea, swallowing before she nodded once. "I would say that light is the borealis, the sky lights I used to see with my birth clan in the Brecilian forest but…" She frowned. "It's not natural. It doesn't _feel_ right."

In fact, the Fade itself didn't feel right since that crack of thunder in the cloudless sky. The Veil seemed turbulent as the Waking Sea in a storm now. Rosa often felt it thinning around her, stretching and straining. Sometimes she could feel demons and spirits on the other side, straining toward her. As a Dreamer she glowed brightly to them, a beacon in the physical world.

Deshanna's expression went heavy with remorse. "I'm sorry, Rosa." She didn't say what she apologized for, but Rosa already knew.

She swallowed the sudden aching lump in her throat, finding it hard to breathe. Her father was dead, gone for over a year now. Her brother had gone southwest to the Frostbacks for the Conclave to represent his clan alongside Deshanna's envoy of two hunters to act as spies for the People. Mahanon went with Tal, determined to safeguard and watch over Rosa's brother while she could not. Lerand, another Lavellan clan hunter, left as well. Taehon, Lerand's father, looked increasingly miserable as the days passed. Like Rosa, he feared the worst. Rosa was their connection to the outside world and the Conclave as a Dreamer and her sense of all four of men had gone dark.

How much longer would she deny the obvious?

They were dead. All of them.

With trembling hands, Rosa shifted in her furs and extended one hand out to set her cup, half-consumed, onto the bench at her side. "I need to sleep, Keeper."

"You need to eat, _da'len,"_ Deshanna chastened her in a soft voice, tender and sympathetic.

"I'm fine," Rosa said, dismissing the concern. Her stomach felt hollow and shrunken, unable and unwilling to accept nourishment with the grief looming over her.

Deshanna frowned, clearly disagreeing, but she said nothing further as Rosa got to her feet and started shuffling her way toward the aravel she and Mahanon had shared until he had left a few months ago. She kept the furs wrapped tightly about herself as she climbed into the aravel and pulled the hatch shut behind her. Sniffing and swallowing constantly to keep her grief at bay, Rosa went to her pallet and lay down. She was careful to position herself, her sling, and her furs before she rested her head and let the Fade take her in.

And almost immediately she felt Tal's presence. It was faint, hard for her to locate, but it was there.

"Tal!" she shouted as the Fade ether swirled around her, thick and impenetrable. She made out rocky projections. The ground glowed green in eerie, jagged shapes. Reddish crystals circled overhead.

Rosa wrapped her arms around herself. "Tal!" She shut her eyes and gripped the Fade, willing it to bring her brother's consciousness to her. The Fade warped, moving and twisting as it acquiesced. Then she heard her brother's voice croak.

"Rosa?"

She opened her eyes and saw Tal standing in front of her in his green mercenary armor. His feet looked huge and bulky, unbearably awkward inside boots when he normally went barefoot. He looked pallid and thinner than she remembered, with gray circles under his eyes. Rosa didn't care as her heart swelled with relief and love. She ran for him, throwing her arms around him in a crushing bear hug.

" _Da'isamalin!"_

Tal chuckled, feigning a choking noise as he patted her back. "Rosa! Great to see you, but can you _not_ choke me, maybe?"

"This is the Fade," she said, pulling back from him to playfully cuff the back of his head, mussing up his dark curls. "You don't need to breathe here."

"Could have fooled me," Tal said, grinning as he shrugged.

"Tal," she said, gripping him by the shoulders. "What happened to you? We heard a crack in a clear sky and at night in the southwest there's a glow in the sky. It's been _six days_ since I talked with you last." She broke off, blinking as her eyes went hot with tears. "I thought you were dead."

"Well," Tal said, smiling wanly, _"I'm_ not."

Rosa's heart clenched in her chest with dread. The way he'd said that made it clear something terrible _had_ happened. "Tell me," she said, steeling herself for the worst.

And as Tal told her about it—the explosion at the Conclave that destroyed the temple and probably killed all the Dalish who'd accompanied Tal as well as hundreds others, the strange mark burning in his left hand, his status as a quasi-prisoner of the _shemlen_ , and that somehow Rogathe had possessed him—Rosa gawked at her brother with mounting shock. And then, finally, Tal scoffed and said, "Oh, but the best part of all this?" He edged closer, a knowing look hardening his features. "Revas is here."

The name hit her like a slap to the face. Her heart hammered against her breastbone. She recoiled from Tal, letting him go as if just the mention of Revas— _Solas—_ had contaminated him. "Have you said anything?" she asked, stilted.

Tal snorted. "No. Of course not." Then he looked away and frowned. "I mean other than calling him names and ragging on him for being a right shithead. I couldn't keep it from popping out because I was just so _mad._ It's Rogathe, but…"

She let out a choking laugh before she could stop herself, feeling a flutter of affection all over again for her brother. She knew all too well how hard it was to watch one's tongue when Rogathe shared the space and assumed control of the reins partly. "At least Revas can help you with that."

"Yeah," Tal grumbled. "But…did you want me to say something? Rogathe thinks he should know."

Rosa stared down at the sandy soil of the raw Fade, watching the ether drift by on invisible currents. She sucked in a breath and shut her eyes. "Han is dead," she said, feeling a lump in her throat as she faced that. She hadn't loved him, but he was a good partner and utterly devoted. He'd been so determined to protect Tal for her that he'd wound up dying and now Rosa was a widow.

"Probably," Tal admitted, sniffing.

"And the sky's torn open and S— _Revas_ is there," Rosa muttered, shaking her head. "Somehow I don't think that's an accident."

"He isn't just some flat-ear," Tal agreed. "I mean, I know you don't want to tell me what you know, but it seems obvious." He growled back in his throat with irritation. "I don't see why you bother keeping that rat-bastard's secrets, _asamalin."_

Rosa sighed. Silence fell for a few moments and then Tal asked, "So, what do you want me to do?"

She lifted her head, smiling at him. "I want you to stay safe until I get there."

Tal blanched and raised both hands as if to ward her off. "Oh, no, no, no. That is a _bad_ idea. Varric and I were just talking about how lucky it was you _weren't_ here. And you can't make the journey with—"

"The clan should bury our people and mourn them properly," Rosa cut in firmly. "And you're the only brother I have. I'm not about to sit idly by out of fear."

"See," Tal grumbled, smirking. "This is why Rogathe gets along so well with _you._ You sound like a spirit of bravery even when you're not possessed."

"Well," Rosa said, smiling. "I have to live up to my name, don't I?" She nodded, more to herself than him as the idea solidified in her mind. "I need to go to you. To bury our dead. And I need to confront Revas."

"About what happened at the Conclave or—"

"All of it," Rosa said and then, before she could say more she felt the Fade ripple. A sharp cry cut through her mind. She grimaced. "I have to wake up now." She stared at Tal seriously. "Stay safe, little brother."

"I got this, _asamalin,"_ he said, winking at her. "Now go take care of Elia."

Rosa woke with a sharp gasp. The sound of her baby's cries echoed through the aravel. She knew the shrill sound of her hungry daughter now like she knew the sigh of the wind through the trees around Wycome. Shifting under the furs, Rosa pulled the baby's sling closer and stroked her downy brown hair. In the light she knew it glinted with highlights of red, a color she assumed came from Solas.

"Shhhh," she said, trying to hush the baby's cries and get her to nurse. Eliana took her nipple quickly, suckling vigorously. She was always a hungry baby, plump and growing fast at about five months now—and already a Dreamer. Rosa had felt her presence in the Fade even before the baby was born. Rosa had spoken with her mother in the Fade and learned that _she_ had done the same thing, so it wasn't apparently unusual. Still, Rosa couldn't shake the concern that Eliana might grow to be more of a handful than she could handle. Eliana might need someone more experienced in magic and Dreamers than her grandmother and mother. She'd need an Elvhen mentor, just as Rosa had had in Felassan.

Solas might not wish to be a partner or father, but she suspected he wouldn't be able to turn his back completely on their child.

All the more reason she had to go to Haven and confront him.

* * *

 **Next Chapter**

"Are you trying to tell me Tal isn't behaving himself?" Rosa asked, arching a brow.

"He is…" Josephine seemed to fidget, blushing. "Rather _too_ fond of drink."

"That is putting it mildly, Josie," Leliana cut in playfully. Looking to Rosa, she said, "We're glad you're here. I believe the Herald needs a steadying hand. Cassandra has not been able to provide it. She's…too overbearing."

* * *

Oh, Tal, you're in for a wild and crazy ride! Next time...a certain "Fade expert" meets a certain infant in dire need of a father-figure, or a teacher at the very least...

I'm undecided how this story will ultimately progress as far as Tal's romance(s). I'm leaning toward Dorian, though, and I will update the pairings when I've made up my mind.


	2. When Solas Met Eliana

**A/N:** You guys ready for some Solas-torture? *evil laughter* **  
**

* * *

 **Two**

When Solas Met Eliana

* * *

Tal groaned when someone bumped his knee, hard. "Fuck off," he growled. That was his mantra these days. Too bad no one ever listened to him.

"Wake up," Revas' voice called from impossibly high over him.

Tal groaned again as he cracked open one eye and saw the pallid elven man glowering down at him, impatient and disgusted. His bald head shined faintly in the light from dawn streaking in through the trees near the lake by Haven village. Revas had prodded Tal with his staff and now leaned on it like a walking stick as he stared down at Tal, waiting for him to respond.

"I said fuck off," Tal repeated, slurring the words. He felt Rogathe stir faintly inside him, but the spirit reacted to alcohol worse than Tal did—in fact, had Tal been in a better mood he would have laughed about how the spirit couldn't hold its liquor. Alcohol dulled the spirit's reactions, giving Tal an easier time of controlling it. Of course, those weren't the techniques Revas recommended and Tal knew that disappointed the other man.

Well, fuck him. It wasn't as if Revas hadn't ever disappointed Tal.

"Seeker Pentaghast has arranged for us to journey to the Hinterlands," Revas said and knocked the staff on Tal's knee once more. "She sent me to fetch you. I suggest you rise and make yourself presentable before she sends Varric to wake you instead. My understanding is that he will douse you with a bucket of water from the lake."

Tal snorted, rubbing his face with one hand. "Nugshit. It's covered with ice."

"I could melt it for him," Revas suggested.

"Mythal's tits," Tal growled. "I _hate_ you right now."

"Your ire is misdirected," Revas told him blankly. "You have brought this state of affairs upon yourself with too much to drink."

Tal grunted as he hefted himself into a sitting position. He had collapsed here beneath the boughs of a pine around the lake outside Haven in the hope of escaping just this sort of wake up. The Seeker, Leliana, Cullen, and countless others liked to ambush him at all hours of the day and night, asking for his opinions and guidance. Like he was some kind of fucking prophet.

Fucking Herald of fucking Andraste.

"I have something for you," Revas said.

Tal grimaced as he craned his head up to stare at the older elf. "Yeah? Is it whiskey?"

"No," Rveas replied, sounding irritated. He reached into his tunic and pulled out a small carved figure of a wolf. "I have prepared this amulet to act as a binding for Rogathe until the breach has been sealed and we can safely exorcise it from you."

The breach seemed to affect Rogathe, locking the spirit inside Tal despite their efforts to get it out. With the spirit trapped inside him, or possibly unwilling to leave, Tal had to find other ways to keep the spirit controlled. Revas suggested meditation and ways of finding a calm center. Tal had other ideas. He was already fond of drinking and only grew more so as he discovered its ability to sedate Rogathe. Now he eyed the amulet with bleary eyes, trying to focus on it. Finally he reached out and took it from Revas' hold. "So…whaddaya gotta do?"

"The spell will activate with your blood," Revas told him. "It is very simple but effective. Rogathe will be bound and unable to manifest within you beyond the barest of influences."

"Okay," Tal said and, with clumsy fingers, pulled out a small dagger from his belt. Holding it aloft, he wagged it for Revas' benefit. "This is a fucking awesome utility knife. Gut a rabbit? You got it. Pick your nails? Done. Whittle wood? You bet." He changed his grip and slid the knife over his palm, wincing. "Cut yourself for a little blood magic? In a heartbeat."

Gripping the amulet with his bleeding hand, Tal smeared it liberally with crimson. "That do it?"

Revas nodded. "Yes. Allow it to dry and then wear it."

Tal made a face. "Fucking garish this thing is. Red wolf."

Revas sighed. "A simple thank you would suffice."

"Yeah?" Tal asked, arching a brow. "Okay…thanks." He blew on the amulet. "Dry already, you piece of shit."

Revas sighed again and turned on his heel, stave tapping the stones beneath the thin layer of snow. "Please return to Haven within the hour so we can depart for the Hinterlands."

"Yes, _mamae,"_ Tal grumbled as he continued puffing at the amulet. When the red-brown streaks of blood had at last dried, Tal slipped it on over his head. The pressure inside him faded abruptly and he blinked, realizing he had been feeling Rogathe more and more over the last few weeks. Relief made him sag and then fall backward into the snow, groaning. "Oh, fuck yes. _Thank you_ , Revas."

"You are welcome," Revas replied, genuine now. "Did you require any help getting prepared for the journey?"

Tal lifted one hand, waving at Revas dismissively. He let it flop back down into the snow and shivered. "I'm good. I got this."

"It does not appear that way from my position, _lethallin,"_ Revas said, a note of amusement coloring his voice. When Tal didn't reply Revas apparently took that as tacit agreement and walked toward him. Snow crunched under his bare feet. A moment later he stooped beside Tal and reached for him.

Tal let the older man take his weight and lift him up. The world spun, blurring together and he slumped, moaning and reaching for his head. "Oh, fuck me."

"I must politely decline," Revas quipped dryly.

Tal scowled. "Not funny, dude. Seriously. I think I'm going to have to—" He gagged and doubled over, retching into the snow—and onto Revas' foot wraps.

"Was that really necessary?" Revas complained, nose wrinkling with revulsion.

"Yep," Tal said, wiping his mouth with one sleeve. The armor Cassandra had supplied him with looked like glorified pajamas. Would anyone really notice a little spittle on one sleeve? Tough if they did notice, chances were none of them would dare call him on it save maybe the Seeker and Varric. And Revas, of course.

He spat, not bothering to aim, uncaring if he hit Revas' foot wraps again. Bastard deserved it, honestly. It'd been weeks now and he'd never mentioned Rosa. The topic was taboo. Tal never brought it up because doing so enraged Rogathe and risked exposing him as an abomination or whatever Cassandra would end up calling him as they ordered his death. It wasn't clear if Revas was avoiding the topic for the same reasons or if he just didn't want Tal to remember he'd once abandoned his sister in the Free Marches despite promising her he'd come back.

It wouldn't matter soon that Revas liked to bury his head in the sand. Or snow, rather. With Rogathe bound and Rosa on her way to Haven there soon wouldn't be any place for Revas to hide from the truth of what he'd done.

Unfortunately it looked like Rosa and the clan wouldn't reach Haven before Cassandra dragged them all to the Hinterlands.

Whatever. Tal intended to be shitfaced the entire way there and back. Varric kept him well-supplied, even if sometimes it tasted like piss because it was Chantry and Inquisition swill.

"It appears _I_ will also require a bath," Revas lamented with a longsuffering sigh.

"Speak for yourself, buddy," Tal said, slurring. "I didn't get vomit on me. I'm fine going without a bath."

"Perhaps your nose has ceased to function in your inebriated state," Revas muttered. "In that case, I think you should know you _are_ in need of a bath."

"Only if Cassandra agrees to wash me."

"I doubt even a desire demon in her shape would agree to that," Revas commented. "Now, please, let's keep moving."

* * *

When they saw the picket line and trebuchets from the snowy hills Rosa sent Negan, the clan's hunt master, up ahead with Samhel, one of the warriors who volunteered to make the journey. They picked a rocky promontory, hiding the aravel in the shelter of some trees nearby, and let the few halla with them graze on the sparse grass and pine bushes peeking through the snow. Rosa and the others gathered around their single aravel, huddling under furs for warmth as they waited, talking quietly as snow fell softly.

They took turns scouting, heading out to the rocky outlook over the road to gaze out at the village for signs of unrest or attack. Rosa suspected that this soon after the catastrophe the _shemlen_ would be primed to attack anything the least bit foreign or suspicious. It was a wonder they hadn't just lopped off Tal's head—but apparently he had some kind of bizarre magic they thought marked him as blessed by their dead prophet woman.

Rosa had to admit there was something…otherworldly about this place. The breach made the other elves with her gawk and quake with fear, but at the same time Rosa felt something prickling her skin that wasn't dread. When she risked asking the others with her a few of them replied in kind. It wasn't entirely fear they felt, but something else. Anticipation? It was hard to separate from their anxiety for whatever reception they'd receive from Haven.

It was nearly dusk before Negan and Samhel returned with two _shemlen_ escorting them. The humans wore armor Rosa had never seen in green and brown, with a symbol that appeared to be both Chantry sunburst and Templar sword in one. Except, as they drew closer, she saw the sunburst wasn't a sunburst. It was an eye.

The humans were armed but did not appear unfriendly. Both Negan and Samhel were allowed to jog ahead and move freely. Rinaya acted as scout, nodding to Samhel and Negan as they approached, scuttling up the rocks to leave the road. The humans soon followed them, having a tougher time in their unwieldy armor. When she could hear their grunting, Rosa opened the furs she wore and passed her sling to Ashani, the clan healer and her mother through bonding. The older woman accepted the bundle quickly, tucking furs around herself to hide the bulk of the baby in her sling.

The two humans were breathing rough as they reached Rosa. Negan, Samhel, and Rinaya stayed nearby, tense in case of unexpected aggression by the _shemlen._ Every elf knew humans couldn't be trusted, after all.

"We're here to escort you to Haven village," one of the men said, having caught his breath. He gestured to Negan. "The old man says you're kin to the Herald?"

Rosa nodded. "I am. Tal is my brother." She was silent a moment and then lowered her head, somber with the heaviness of grief. "We lost two members of our clan to the explosion that destroyed the Conclave. My brother's clan also lost someone. We'd like to honor them, reclaim their remains if at all possible."

Both men's expressions softened with sympathy. Rosa felt whatever hesitation and anxiety she'd carried melt away. These soldiers likely both grieved friends or peers as well. Tal had told her thousands died. It was a wonder Haven still had anyone left in it.

"I'm sorry," the man who spoke before said. "I doubt there's any remains for you and your people to take back. Just ashes, really. But you're welcome to look. Any kin of the Herald is welcome in Haven. Sister Leliana would be glad to add some Dalish to her roster of scouts, probably."

"We aren't here to join," Samhel muttered. His clenched jaw and narrowed eyes would likely be mistaken for hostility, but Rosa knew it was heartache and he was desperate not to reveal his emotions in front of strangers. Lerand, the other hunter Lavellan clan had sent to the Conclave, was his little brother. Now he was dead and Samhel had just heard there was nothing but ashes left for him to bury.

"Sorry," the soldier said, shrugging. "Didn't mean to offend."

"May we bring our aravel?" Rosa asked, motioning behind her toward the trees. "We have limited supplies to trade, but we will not be a burden. We can sleep in the aravel and—"

"Of course, of course," the soldier said, nodding. "Come with me."

As the group broke to gather the halla to haul the aravel down from its spot hidden behind some pines, Negan stepped close to Rosa and took her bicep. The old man was weathered by sun and a long life, but Rosa could still see his resemblance to Deshanna, his younger sister. His expression was stoic as he leaned close to her and said, "They say your brother is away. Do we really wish to move inside the village without him to protect us?"

Rosa nodded once. "I believe we will be safe here. There might be some hostility and suspicion, but they've elevated my brother into something…holy. Some of that may spill over onto us through me. As long as we behave with respect toward them, we should be fine until Tal returns."

Just then a baby's cry rent the air. Rosa turned quickly, tensing. The soldier that hadn't spoken earlier stopped to stare at Ashani, his brow furrowed with bafflement. Rosa hurried to the healer, opening her arms to take her daughter back.

"You brought a babe with you?" the soldier asked, sounding surprised.

Rosa ignored him. With one hand she tried to soothe Eliana while with the other she moved to help push the aravel as Rinaya wrangled the halla into position. The soldier blinked and seemed to forget his questions, rushing to help.

They drew a mixture of wide-eyed stares and sneers from Haven's populace. Once Rosa heard someone snarl, "Knife-ear scum." But when she tried to find who had spoken, scowling, no one stood out. They pushed the aravel inside the picket lines, just past a trader to the right. A trebuchet stood further down the pathway, unmanned and unnoticed currently. Rinaya and Samhel went to the trader to offer the limited wares Deshanna had sent with them while Negan watched the halla. Fioni, the clan's first apprentice to the hearth keeper, set about creating a cooking fire for an evening meal. Harl, Fioni's father and one of the clan's strongest warriors, stood guard with Ashani.

Once everything was set with her people, Rosa left with the soldiers, following them up through Haven to the Chantry that dominated it. The soldiers' metal boots scuffed and scraped on the stone floor while Rosa's wrapped feet whispered softly. She kept her furs around her, clasped in one hand. She _was_ cold, but not enough that she truly needed the furs. In truth it was to hide the sling she wore, bearing Eliana. Haven was full of strangers who might act in any number of unpredictable, dangerous ways. Better that they not see Eliana at all.

The soldiers led her to a room at the far end of the Chantry with strong, thick walls. They pulled the door open with a groan of rusty hinges. The sound startled Eliana and she squirmed, whimpering in that hesitant way Rosa knew meant she was anxious and working up a good cry. She sensed both soldiers staring at the furs she held closed, blinking with surprise. The three humans standing in front of her around a long table dominated by a map of southern Thedas also stared with varying expressions of confusion or surprise or—actually, the redhead seemed amused.

It was the redhead who spoke first. "Welcome to Haven. You must be Rosa of clan Lavellan, no?"

Rosa nodded, rocking on her feet and patting Eliana inside her sling without looking away from the three humans. "I am. Tal is my younger brother."

"We are pleased to meet you, my lady," the woman to Rosa's far right said. She had amber skin and dark brown eyes to complement her black hair. The clothing she wore was frilly, shouting wealth and stature. Necklaces and other trinkets tinkled metallically as she gave a little courtly dip of her head. "I am Ambassador Josephine Montiliyet."

She motioned with her quill off her clipboard, indicating the armored man standing in the middle. "This is Commander Cullen Rutherford." The blond-haired man smiled cordially to acknowledge her. Something about him set Rosa's spine rigid, though she couldn't say what. He was handsome and appeared friendly. It was something in his bearing, or his eyes…she couldn't place it.

The Ambassador moved on, indicating the redheaded woman wearing the cowl. "This is Leliana, Left Hand of the Divine." The redhead's lips curled in a coy little smile as she tucked her gloved hands behind her back, as if poised for violence or a graceful dance. Perhaps both.

"We are leaders within the Inquisition, which was founded by Divine Justinia before her death," Leliana explained. "Tal joined us some weeks ago, after attempting to close the breach. I've spoken with him and he's mentioned you."

Rosa smiled, chuckling. "I'm sure he said something along the lines of ' _I finally get away from my overbearing sister's protection and_ this _is what happens.'_ "

Leliana's smile broadened and Josephine suddenly appeared bashful, turning her head down and scribbling frantically on her clipboard. The Commander cleared his throat, drawing her attention to him. "Actually, I wonder if you might be able to help him with all this." His smile turned knowing and Rosa felt herself relax. "I have an older sister myself, and so I know there's no one better to whip a young man into shape."

"Are you trying to tell me Tal isn't behaving himself?" Rosa asked, arching a brow.

"He is…" Josephine seemed to fidget, blushing. "Rather _too_ fond of drink."

"That is putting it mildly, Josie," Leliana cut in playfully. Looking to Rosa, she said, "We're glad you're here. I believe the Herald needs a steadying hand. Cassandra has not been able to provide it. She's…too overbearing."

"I'm happy to help," Rosa said, still rocking in place to calm Eliana as the baby squirmed.

"But I can see you won't be able to travel extensively," Leliana put in, her blue eyes deliberately dropping to the lump beneath the furs Rosa clasped shut. Then the redhead changed her stance, moving her hands out in front of her as she took a step closer. Her smile was bright and tender, her eyes warm. "May I see the little one?"

Both Cullen and Josephine leaned forward, their postures and gazes revealing curiosity, not hostility. Rosa scanned the room, nervous despite the mood. Eliana continued gurgling and cooing every so often as the seconds stretched out. Finally, Rosa nodded and released her tight grip on the furs. They slid off her shoulders and she held them out in one hand, taking a step closer to the enormous table with its huge map of Thedas. "May I?" she asked.

"Be my guest," Cullen encouraged her.

Rosa folded the furs and set them on the table, careful not to knock over any markers on the map. Then she loosened the sling and adjusted Eliana, lifting her partly upright. The baby blinked sleepy eyes out at the room. Her brownish hair stood out at bizarre angles, ruffled and mussed by being confined in the sling. She had pink cheeks and her skin was warm, damp in places from when she had gummed her fingers and toes.

Leliana grinned, moving closer and clucking her tongue. "Hello there, aren't you adorable."

Eliana made eye contact with Leliana and grinned, toothless. She squealed, flailing her little fists and reaching toward the other woman. Rosa gripped her daughter around the middle, keeping her from pitching forward in her eagerness to interact with the redhead. Josephine and Cullen both chuckled with amusement.

"Is it a girl?" Cullen asked, sounding almost timid, as if shy suddenly. "Or a boy?"

"Yes, a girl," Rosa told him, beaming as the last of her anxiety fled. She could trust these humans. She felt that truth in her bones. "Her name is Eliana."

"A lovely name for a lovely baby," Josephine gushed, also grinning.

"Thank you," Rosa said. She didn't tell them that her daughter's name meant something bittersweet— _our conclusion, our end._ Eliana was the result of a brief and torrid affair with a man she knew had to be skulking somewhere here in Haven, a man who'd survived the fall of Arlathan and Elvhenan only to break her heart last winter.

With that in mind, Rosa cleared her throat and looked between the three humans, though they were all focused on her baby. "Can you tell me if there's an elven mage by the name of Revas here in Haven?"

All three humans reacted with surprise, their gazes lifting from Eliana to Rosa. It was Leliana who spoke, her brow furrowed. "Yes. Revas has been here since the explosion at the Conclave. But he is currently in the Hinterlands with the Herald, Seeker Pentaghast, and Varric Tethras."

Rosa's eyes widened with recognition. _Varric?_ And _Seeker Pentaghast._ Rosa knew that name, too. She covered the reaction by nodding her gratitude to the hooded redhead. "Do you know when Tal and the others will return?"

"Not precisely," Cullen replied, shrugging. "They've been gone some weeks already."

"The last raven I had from Cassandra said they would be returning within the fortnight," Leliana said. She smiled again as she saw Eliana squirming in Rosa's grip, still reaching for her. Something twisted just beneath the surface on Leliana's face, a sort of knowing expression. Rosa thought she would speak her revelation aloud that she knew who Eliana's father was, but instead she said, "If I'm not mistaken, you three were all members of the Hasmal Circle together, were you not?"

"We were," Rosa hedged. "Briefly. Revas is a friend of mine and I'd hoped to reacquaint with him. I…suspected he might be here. The outcome of the Conclave would have affected him more than Tal and I as he's an apostate and we're Dalish."

"Yes," Leliana said, pinching her lips together in thought. "I suppose you're right."

"Dalish don't belong in a Circle," Cullen said then, wrinkling his nose. "The Templars at Hasmal brought you in?"

"Yes," she replied, stiffening with caution. "It was a misunderstanding and ancient history now." She bounced Eliana as the baby began fussing, frustrated she could not reach Leliana. Rosa was glad of the distraction as she made a shushing sound and nuzzled her daughter's head and ear before saying, "If you don't mind, I should take my leave. Elia's getting cranky."

"Of course, Mistress Lavellan," the Ambassador said. "Such an adorable child mustn't be unhappy."

"If there's anything you or your people need you have only to ask," Cullen added earnestly.

"Thank you," Rosa said, smiling as she grabbed up her furs one-handed and started shrugging them on, trying to tuck an unwilling Eliana back into the shelter of the sling.

She left the meeting room and the Chantry, doing her best to keep her head high even as Eliana's fussing continued to draw curious and baffled stares. She could feel Eliana pawing at her chest, trying to find her breasts. She was hungry, as usual, but Rosa delayed until she had reached the aravel and sat beside Ashani and Fioni at the impromptu hearth the two women had set up. Both of them shot her knowing looks.

"My granddaughter is such a glutton," Ashani teased, grinning with a melancholy pride. Her son was dead and he hadn't fathered Eliana by blood, but Mahanon had loved her like his own. Ashani _was_ Eliana's grandmother, as much as Rosa's own mother was.

"Yes, she is," Rosa agreed as she fumbled under her furs and inside the sling, opening her armor to free one breast for her daughter to nurse. She'd stopped wearing Keeper armor for the present, using hunter armor for its greater accessibility. It was heavier, though paradoxically weaker. Still, the clan crafter hadn't gotten around to modifying her Keeper armor so she had to make do with this for the present.

"What did you learn about your brother?" Harl asked from where he stood a few paces away, scowling as he stared toward the curious _shems_ ogling the aravel from near the trader just down the path. He wore an enormous great axe on his back that Rosa knew he knew how to use. On the journey here Harl had slaughtered dragonlings that attacked them just south of the Waking Sea.

"He's not here just now," Rosa replied. "But he'll be back soon." She hesitated and then added, "And the humans want my help getting him to stop drinking."

Fioni and Ashani both burst out laughing. Harl smirked, restraining his own chuckles. Tal had only stayed with the clan about a week while he helped Rosa settle in and determined they would take her in, pregnant and all. That week was more than long enough for everyone in clan Lavellan to tag Tal as a playful, funny joker with a fondness for alcohol. By the time he left more than a few of Lavellan's teen girls—and _boys_ for that matter—nursed not-so-secret crushes on him. Fioni was one of them, actually. But, more than that, clan Lavellan was fond of him and they were happy to help Rosa look after him.

"I'm not sure the Great Mother herself could get your brother away from the bottle," Harl said, shaking his head even as he continued smirking.

"We'll see," Rosa said, letting out a little contented sigh as she sensed Eliana getting sleepy. "We'll see."

* * *

Tal's head pounded as if the horses were walking over it. The Seeker had refused to stop anywhere along their arduous journey back through the Hinterlands and into the Frostbacks, heading for Haven. She was "cutting him off." Tal rationed his own supply but self-discipline deserted him swiftly and he was out before they even left the Hinterlands. Varric hadn't shared; likely knowing Tal would burn through it like a Templar through lyrium.

So it was that Tal had now gone several days without a drop of alcohol. He slumped over in the saddle, feeling alternatively nauseous and then twitchy with anxiety. He palmed the wolf pendant, stained with his dried blood, obsessively. Each time he touched it he reminded himself he didn't _need_ to drink. He really _shouldn't_ drink. Everyone around him kept reminding him how he needed a clear mind for all the challenges ahead. They were right, but all Tal could think about was how _shit_ he was at leading or carrying any responsibility.

Just look at the state he'd left his clan in, for one thing.

He saw his Keeper, Nola, staring at him stunned and stricken in the dark, her lips swollen from their passionate kissing. _I'm_ s _uch a Creators-damned fool!_

"Tal," a familiar, velvety voice said in his ear.

Tal jerked upright, blinking and gazing around himself. He saw Revas had ridden up next to him and wore a concerned frown over his face. "Are you well?"

"Fuck no," Tal grumbled. "Nothing about the last few weeks has been _well."_ There was all the killing of mages and Templars, tending refugees, seeing the countless dead on the sides of the road from bandits and animal attacks. Demons spewing from every rift, frightening people into cults and early graves. There were decisions people kept looking to _him_ to make. Meanwhile Tal typically felt like he rarely had the knowhow or authority or confidence to decide what he should eat for breakfast, let alone how to help people or settle a stupid war he wasn't _really_ part of. Or _shouldn't_ be part of, anyway. Sure, he was a mage, but he was _Dalish._ Dalish weren't part of _anything_ except themselves!

Then there was Mother Giselle, yapping at him to go visit the "grand clerics." If Tal had been a dog he would have slunk off with his tail between his legs. Sure, Mother Giselle. Sure, go to the clerics. _That's like asking the halla to go talk to the wolf,_ he thought. T _hey won't eat you!_

And, most frustrating of all, Rogathe hadn't left him in the Hinterlands. Revas had met him in the Fade several times, trying to coax the spirit into communicating with them, but it remained stubbornly buried. The breach apparently kept it trapped even leagues away from Haven. So, it seemed Tal would have to live as a quasi-abomination for another few weeks or months, however long it took them to seal the damnable, cocksucking breach.

Revas pinched his lips together with disapproval. "You have let yourself grow addicted to drink."

Tal scoffed, waving the older elf away. "You want me to switch to lyrium instead?"

"Of course not," Revas chided. His expression softened. "I am merely concerned for you. I know a spell that may ease the symptoms."

Tal blew out a breath, shooting Revas a sidelong look that was halfway resentment and halfway admiration. It'd be _nice_ if his head didn't pound, but…

"I think you don't _get_ why I keep drinking, Revas," he muttered and then motioned at the mountains around them, the horses, the Seeker up ahead and Varric behind. "It's to forget all _this._ You think I was really cut out to be a leader? This is a joke. The humans think this is the will of their god and their prophetess, but honestly, I think it feels more like a divine joke, like the Dread Wolf set it up and now the old trickster is sitting back giggling as it all unfolds."

Revas grimaced, as if what Tal said was particularly distasteful. "I see no divine influence here. The mark in your hand is not divine, it is magic."

"It's the same Creators-damned magic that tore open the bloody Veil," Tal snapped. Then he huffed. "But I guess you're right. Last thing I want is to start sounding like I believe the humans and their horseshit."

They rode on in silence for some time. In the distance, Tal heard the clatter of metal on metal. They were nearing Haven. A little bubble of something other than misery swelled inside him. In his dreams, whenever he wasn't with Revas, Rosa had visited him. The sight of her always relieved his anxiety and distracted him from the weight of his responsibilities and the constant certainty that he was an incompetent fool. He knew she was at Haven and Cullen, Leliana, and Josephine had all welcomed her.

And she had Eliana with her.

Tal shot Revas a look, smirking with a sort of vindictive glee. He couldn't wait to see the shock on the older elf's face. _He deserves it,_ he thought and chuckled to himself as he prodded his mount to pick up speed, moving a touch faster. He purposefully kept Revas in the dark, utterly unknowing at Rosa's request. This confrontation was to be all hers. Revas had made _her_ suffer while Tal was just a bystander. Still, it was going to be _so_ deliciously rewarding to see Revas squirm as she confronted him with the full enormity of just what an asshole he was.

Revas prodded his horse as well, keeping pace with Tal. "You feel overwhelmed with the responsibility piled upon you," he said. "And you are afraid. Your drinking is to escape that fear."

Tal rolled his eyes. "Isn't that what I just said?" And it wasn't just the Inquisition and the mark in his hand that drove him to alcohol. It was the ache in his chest every time he saw Nola's stare recreated by desire and despair demons in the Fade and remembered…well, what an enormous _asshole_ he was, too. If he hadn't run, if he'd just _talked_ to her…he might still be with her and none of this would have happened. Arvin or Mahanon or Lerand, the three who'd died, might have the mark instead. Or maybe it would be one of the countless humans or dwarves or, Void take him, maybe even one of the Tal-Vashoth.

"You cannot afford to wallow in doubt," Revas said, speaking softly. "I have faith that you will grow to lead us. Every young man harbors uncertainties within himself. Every youth struggles in the beginning to find his place. No one is born to confidence and leadership. It must be earned, and _learned._ " His blue eyes narrowed, though they remained tender with empathy. "Act what you do not feel and eventually it will become real. We all shape ourselves much as we shape the Fade when we dream."

" _You_ shape the Fade," Tal muttered. "I'm a nobody, remember? _Rosa_ is the one who can shape the Fade." He enjoyed the way Revas' face paled at the mention of her. He lifted his marked hand, flexing the fingers. "If _she_ had this instead she'd know what to do."

"And that is because she was _raised_ to be a leader from childhood as her clan's First," Revas said, detached now in the way of a good teacher. "She was not born to leadership, but was taught. You have not had that benefit."

Tal buried the irritated scowl that tried to twist his face because he knew Revas was right, even as he casually used Rosa to make his point. He was glad for the umpteenth time that Rogathe had been bound. If the spirit was still free Tal was certain it would have exploded in rage. It _really_ loved Rosa and thought Revas was filthy scum unworthy of even speaking her name.

It was right, probably, but Tal was a lot more blasé about it. Revas wasn't _all_ bad, though he _was_ an asshole. But Tal could level with assholes. His father was one, after all, and Revas reminded him of his father. A _lot._

The wood-picket barricades of Haven came into view. The horses picked up speed, sensing food and water and rest at the end of the long journey. Their ears twitched nervously as they passed by where Cullen trained the men, jumpy at the flash of swords and the clang of metal. Stable-hands rushed out to take the horses' reins.

As soon as his mount was under control, Tal slid off it and started for the gate at a fast walk. He wanted to escape Cassandra's notice before she could strong-arm him into a debriefing with Cullen. He could already hear the two chatting, exchanging quick greetings as she, doubtless, tried to pull the commander away from overseeing his troops to come sit and look pretty for her, Leliana, and Josephine while they talked strategy regarding the grand clerics. They'd expect Tal to do the same, but really his job would be to sit and look ridiculous, a tattooed knife-ear savage barely out of his teens being paraded around as their _Herald._ Ludicrous! The only way he could sit through that sort of thing was if he were so drunk he wouldn't be able to squirm or think, short of trying not to pass out or vomit.

"Herald," Cassandra shouted from behind him. She must've seen him trying to escape.

 _I can't hear you,_ Tal thought and picked up his pace. _Can't hear you, Seeker._

He spotted the reddish color of an aravel sail sticking up over the picket and his heart lurched with anticipation. He actually _didn't_ hear any further shouting from Cassandra as he jogged up the stairs and rounded the trader's stall to the right. He saw the aravel and a few elves scattered around it with a small hearth fire crackling. They were roasting a hare over it, turning a spit. His mouth watered. After weeks of salted rations and chancy game they caught on the road, this smelled heavenly.

And there, sitting on a blanket a short distance from the fire, he saw his niece, grinning and flapping her chubby arms. An elven woman held her gently with one hand, keeping her from falling over or getting too close to the hearth. An older woman sitting next to them kept Eliana entertained, leaning close and making faces at the baby. Eliana squealed and reached for the woman's face and hair, her toothless grin spread wide over spitty lips.

"Tal," a voice said as, simultaneously, a hand landed on his shoulder. He flinched, frowning as he twisted to look back and saw Revas had caught up to him when he stopped. "The Seeker wishes a word," Revas said. But as he spoke he'd noticed the aravel and the elves sitting around it. A mixture of wariness and confusion creased his features.

"Tell her it can wait," Tal snapped and jerked his shoulder from Revas' grasp. He hesitated a second longer to observe Revas' ongoing surprise at the sight of the aravel and then hurried to the hearth. "Roar," he said, laughing as he pretended to swoop down on the baby.

The woman holding Eliana leaned back slightly, letting Tal scoop her up. "Zoom!" Tal said, careful to hold the baby safely while he spun, letting her squeal at the sudden motion. Then he lifted her so her belly met up with his face and blew a raspberry onto her stomach. "Roar! I'm going to eat you up! Nom, nom, nom."

Eliana screeched with laughter, kicking and flopping her arms. Her chubby fists grabbed at his curly hair. "Babababa," she called, spitting.

"Aw, c'mon," Tal said, tucking her against his shoulder and shucking her chin. She grabbed at his finger and tried to chew on it. "Say my name, kiddo. It's not baba. Try again."

Eliana blew spit bubbles on his finger, her blue eyes dancing. Then she reached for his face, trailing spitty fingers on his cheeks. Tal pulled back from her, nose wrinkling. "Yucky. I forgot how you're always sticky and wet." He glanced down at the elves of clan Lavellan, who watched him with amusement. "So, where's Rosa?"

"Went with Samhel and Negan to instruct the _shems_ in the stables how _not_ to handle the halla," the older woman said, chuckling. "They're clueless." She winked at Tal. "Good to see you again, Two-Hundred Arrows."

"Great to see you guys too, but," he grimaced as Eliana squealed out her joy, a little too loud and far too close to his ear, "I'm going to look like a right ass when I admit I don't remember your names."

They laughed and Tal peeked over his shoulder to check on Revas only to see the bastard had disappeared.

* * *

Solas' heart kept hammering on his breastbone and his skin was clammy with a cold sweat as he marched down the stairs and out the front gates of Haven. He would tell the Seeker Tal was occupied and she'd have to bring him to the debriefing herself because the "Herald" wasn't listening to him.

And then he'd ask _who_ the Dalish were. Which clan? Was it Tal's, or…? The idea that it wasn't Tal's had him dizzy with horror and… _excitement._ He tried to quash it like the dangerous thing it was, that addictive longing that kept him awake at all hours and tempted him every night in the Fade—that threat to his greater goals.

He tried to rationalize it away why that clan _had_ to be Tal's or even some visiting clan. The way Tal had rushed to the infant suggested a prior relationship with this group. It _had_ to be his clan, then, and not Rosa's. She was a Dreamer, true, and could share her experiences with him via dreams, but it seemed incongruous for Tal to run up to a child that young and snatch her from her caretakers with such ease when she was from another clan. So that meant this was clan Manaria, Tal's clan, not—

And then, all his attempts at denial came crashing down as he heard his name—his _real name_ —spoken by a familiar female voice. "Solas?"

He stopped, almost skidding on the dirt and gravel underfoot, and jerked his head left toward the stables. He saw three Dalish, two men and one woman. His eyes skipped over the men, dismissing them almost at once, and focused on the woman. She wore hunter armor, which seemed odd, and her face was tired and paler than he remembered, but she was still Rosa. Brown hair, a touch unruly, with Dirthamen's vallaslin in cream against her bronzed skin. And something in her countenance had always reminded him of Mythal, and her violet eyes had hinted at the truth of just _why_ that should be. Despite a year's passage she was still very much the woman he had fallen in love with in the Circle tower and then had forced himself to leave in the Free Marches.

He swallowed, feeling abruptly ill. The rest of the world faded until it was just himself and Rosa as she stopped a few paces short of him. Her expression was stiff and cold.

"Rosa," he said, breathing her name.

"Revas," she said, using his alias name now with a nod. "I'm glad to see you're well. I thought maybe you were dead." She shrugged, as though she didn't care one way or another.

Solas cringed before he could stop himself as the words hit him like bricks. "I…I'm sorry."

"Rosa?" one of the Dalish, an old rogue, asked at her side, lifting both eyebrows in silent question.

"Go on," she said, jerking her chin toward Haven. "Give me a minute to talk to an old _friend."_

Solas swallowed. It was a miracle he didn't vomit the way his stomach fluttered as that mix of horror and excitement churned inside him. "Yes," he said, his voice small and faraway. "It's good to see you again."

The two men glanced at one another speculatively and then deferred to Rosa's apparent authority as First. They started for the gates, but the younger of the two glanced back with a worried expression. How much did they know? What had Rosa told them? He wanted to groan but bit it back. His face felt hot and his hands had gone ice cold.

"Rosa," he said, breaking the silence first, licking his lips nervously. "I'm sorry that I have not contacted you. I had…other responsibilities. It was too dangerous." He motioned at the mountains, trying to indicate the Conclave and its explosion, the breach. "I feared something like this would happen and had you known of it, I knew you would place yourself in danger. I could not allow that."

She stared at him, anger darkening her violet eyes. Her lips twisted down. Her nostrils flared. Solas could see the words broiling inside, ready to explode out. But nothing happened. Her ears were red and her hands clenched into fists, but she remained silent. Finally, she lifted her chin, jutting it out. "There's someone I'd like you to meet."

The non-sequitor made Solas blink, stunned anew. He stared at her a moment, brow furrowed. Then he squared his shoulders and nodded. "Of course."

Rosa pivoted and started walking for Haven's gate. Solas followed her, stiff-legged and with his spine rigid. What was she doing?

She led him around the corner inside the gates to the right, passing the trader stall and heading for the aravel. Solas saw the two hunters had rejoined the group and now stood around the fire and the aravel, chatting with Tal, who still held the infant. Now he supported her by the upper body, letting the tiny child bounce on legs that were as yet unsteady. The child drew most of the elves' attention, making them smile and laugh at her antics. But then Tal turned his head and saw them coming and all at once his face broke out in what Varric would have called a shit-eating grin.

He hopped up, holding the baby as Rosa approached. Solas slowed, wary as dread crawled up his throat, clutching at it. This was Rosa's clan, he knew that now. But Tal's familiarity with a child outside his clan…

He felt the blood draining from his face and froze a few paces back, unable to make himself move closer as shock gripped him. _No…it cannot be…_

His mind raced as he watched Tal hand the baby over to Rosa and she took the infant with a familiarity and confidence surely borne of experience. Solas' gaze swept over her anew and he saw her form had thickened slightly. Her waist was still tiny but her breasts were pronounced even in armor and…was that a little paunch in her belly? He _knew_ it had been flat as a board in the Hasmal Circle. The memory taunted him nightly of his hands on her every contour.

The child was _hers._ Of that there could be no doubt.

How old was it— _she?_ He cursed his own lack of knowledge about infants. He'd never dealt with infants before, even though Mythal had them about her constantly. He taught older children that could speak and summon magic. Infants held no interest for him because they lacked magic and speech and all the other interesting things that made physical beings worthwhile. But _this_ one, this one was…

Rosa turned with the baby on her hip, swaying slightly in a motion he had seen Mythal do hundreds of times while she carried an infant. He stared at the babe, still frantically trying to guess her age, her date of conception. But he knew so little he could not be sure of anything.

Yet the child's eyes were his own in color. Her lips had a shape that might have been his own as well, and her hair had flecks of red and the brown was a shade paler than Rosa's. She could be…but _how?_ Rosa was Dalish, they did not conceive children carelessly and she had never turned him away, never cautioned him against…

"Revas," Rosa said then, her voice strained. "This is Eliana, my daughter."

The meaning of the name hit him like a slap. _Our end._

"She's _your_ daughter," Tal put in abruptly, still grinning in that way Solas knew meant he was greatly enjoying this, particularly Solas' own reaction. The clan behind them frowned, their gazes raking Solas with disapproval.

"No," Rosa snapped, shooting a glare at her brother. "Her father was my bond partner, Mahanon." Her violet eyes were dark, grave. An older woman behind Rosa lowered her eyes, her face wracked with grief, and Solas knew then that Mahanon must be one of the three other Dalish who died in the Conclave. His chest constricted with sympathy—and shame.

"But she'll need a teacher," Rosa said, her voice still hard and her gaze fierce with a tightly controlled anger. "She's a Dreamer," she added, quieter now. "Like me."

 _Like you,_ her eyes said.

Though he was still dizzy with the revelation, cold with the horror and somehow also hot with shame, Solas nodded. A stilted answer came to his lips. "I would be happy to help in any way I can."

Rosa's jaw clenched but she nodded. "Good." She looked over at Tal then and said, "Maybe you can start by watching her while Tal and I go sit with the _shems_ for a debriefing."

"What?" Tal blurted and then groaned. "Seriously? Now? No. Fuck the _shems."_

"Now," Rosa chastened him. Turning back to Solas she narrowed her eyes. "Can I trust you to hold her?"

"I would never harm her," Solas answered immediately, flushing hot at her doubt. He would never harm a child! Least of all _his_ child!

Her expression was doubtful. She turned and walked back to the fire, extending the baby out to one of the other women. "Watch her and have _Revas_ sit a while. He needs to get to know her."

The woman nodded, though her face showed uncertainty. The elves threw Solas uneasy glances as Rosa went to Tal and snagged his arm, dragging the unwilling Herald with her toward the Chantry. Leaving Solas alone with the elves and… _his daughter…_

* * *

 **Next Chapter**

"How…" he started to say and then flushed red as Rosa couldn't help but laugh dryly.

"You know how."

"No," he told her, brows knitting and voice sharpening with irritation. "The Dalish do not idly make children. I understand your decision, but I do not understand…" He broke off, trying again and still blushing bright red. "You did not wear a charm?"

* * *

This was so delicious to write back when I wrote this! It's great to share it now! While there will be familiar threads in this story from Rosa Stands Tall, like Rogathe which you've all met before, I am going to take markedly different paths with them as much as I can to surprise everyone. So while I'm sure no one is surprised Rogathe is still inside Tal despite Solas' initial hope the spirit would just up and leave nice and easy b/c that happened in RST, it's going to resolve very differently. The role reversal and Eliana's addition will impact the story a lot!

KiraChan: I laughed when I saw you were the first to review! And I so knew you'd immediately catch on that Rogathe had moved in. As for Da'Assan, well, the stupid reason I picked a new name is because I didn't want to have a name with an apostrophe. It's damned hard to type constantly and in RST I can get away with only using it rarely. Here, not so much. I also gender swapped the baby here because Rosa in RST believes Da'Assan was male and in Pride Ellana had a boy. It was time for a girl, plus then I get the perfect circle of time b/c now Rosa did exactly what her mother did with Felassan, slept with an Elvhen man and had an unplanned daughter. I think Da'Assan is unisex, but in RST I wanted the imagery of the lost baby as something bittersweet. An arrow to the heart. I figure here she may have thought of the baby as Da'Assan for a while, but eventually worked over other names with her clan and Mahanon. And when the baby was born she settled on a name that had a different symbolism for her, specifically the end to her torrid romance with Solas, but also a new beginning. An old journey and romance and pain that in its conclusion brought new life. At least, that was my artsy fartsy take on it, as my dad might put it.

Frogbutton! Great to hear from you and see how excited you are for this! I hope I do not disappoint! And yes, definitely the baby is here to stay this time! Oh, fun note, I'm going to soon have even more experience mastering Tal's POV as I am actually crafting a DnD character who will basically be Tal but in that world. So, basically, an amorous elf man-boy, a sorcerer with wild magic. My hubby is going to run it as the GM and so is thrilled with my character because it will let him have a ton of fun with the wild magic. Anyway, so that will be loads of fun!

CynicArchon, welcome! Yes, I hope you loved watching the reunion unfold! This reunion is WAY different from the one in RST.

CatNapObsessed OMG, yes, I basically cackled writing this the whole way through. Just smirking at Solas' torment.

Cookie: Great seeing you as always! And yes, Da'Assan was assumed to be a boy. I gender swapped here partly because of the AU aspect, but also because I wanted to not repeat myself with giving Solas sons. In Pride Didn't Go he and Ellana have a son. So I decided Rosa here should have a girl and shake it up a bit.

All right everyone, see you in 2 weeks!


	3. Surprise Fatherhood

**Three**

Surprise Fatherhood

* * *

Rosa wasn't surprised at all when she found herself in a dream with Solas that night after introducing him to Eliana. The Fade had been shaped into the likeness of Haven, complete with bustling _shemlen_ all about. Clan Lavellan's aravel was in place as well, though none of the Dalish were with her. Eliana was here, her dream self incomplete and faceless. It was a touch creepy, but Rosa's mother told her it was normal—apparently Rosa had done the same thing. The baby couldn't comprehend her own face yet as she was not old enough to understand her reflection. So she understood her self as being just disembodied hands, arms, feet, and legs. The rest of her was just a tannish blob of color.

It was an improvement over the shadow Rosa had seen when the baby was unborn and newborn.

She reached for Eliana out of habit and instinct, picking up her child and standing. Solas was nearby, his presence unmistakable in the Fade. He cast a weighty shadow in her mind, mightier than even her father's. She'd glimpsed that strength in the Hasmal Circle, but now it was solid. Solas was stronger now.

Eliana babbled and cooed in her arms, hands flapping and feet kicking. Rosa almost didn't hear Solas speak over it. Almost.

"Rosa."

She turned round to see him on the path leading down to the trebuchet, a look of anguish twisting his features. "I thought we might talk," he said. "I suspect we both have questions."

Anger scorched Rosa from within, but she swallowed it back. She'd always sensed Solas was going to abandon her. Yet, rather than hold back, she fell for him even harder. That wasn't his fault. It was hers. Eliana was also _her_ fault as much as his—more so, actually, because she'd never warned him away and then chose to carry the child. She could see from his expression now how stunned and emotional he was at discovering the baby. Rosa's own father must have worn a similar look when he faced Halesta and realized that he left behind far more than a lover with clan Naseral.

"All right," Rosa said, nodding to him. Her voice sounded hard, grating. She grimaced and made an effort for something brighter, even if it was false as she hiked Eliana higher on her hip—a habit rather than by necessity as here in the Fade the baby had far less weight. "I suppose I'll answer the most obvious question I imagine you have."

She sighed and, looking to the baby, willed Eliana's Fade self to be whole, reflecting the way her daughter appeared in reality. Now the pudgy little hands and feet were connected to an actual child with a face. Eliana squealed and patted at Rosa's surcoat. "Mamamamamama!"

"It was about a month after you'd left that I realized I was pregnant," Rosa explained, shrugging with the shoulder Eliana wasn't against. "I worried that no other clan would take me in carrying a bastard child that might not even be an elf for all they knew." Her voice was tight, strangled. "I was going to…to end the pregnancy, but Tal talked me out of it." She lifted her eyes and stared at Solas. "Do you remember when you asked me how I could revere the Creators even knowing they were false gods?"

Solas swallowed, throat bobbing. "Yes."

"I told you they were ideals to me. And that was why I chose Dirthamen, because he stands for devotion to family. Well, I realized that if I couldn't accept my own child, planned or not, then I was no disciple of Dirthamen. I wasn't loyal to my family all the time, just when it was convenient." The admiration she saw in Solas' eyes made her look away, hating herself for enjoying his reaction and the vindication that it gave her. She hadn't made her choice because of him; it was entirely for herself. She stayed true to her own ideals and accepted the new life she'd accidentally created.

She shifted, cuddling Eliana close, nuzzling her. The baby cooed and gripped her cheeks in her pudgy hands.

"I'm sorry," Solas said, choking. "If I had known—"

"Don't even say it," Rosa snapped, glaring. Eliana grabbed at her ear, heedless of her mother's distress. "I didn't carry her in in the hope I'd lure you back to me. I moved on, Solas. I took a bond partner who loved me and loved Elia like she was his blood. Elia is _his_ daughter."

Now Solas frowned and drew a step closer. The Fade carried a heavy weight with it, pressing in around the edges of the dream. Rosa steeled her spine, refusing to back down despite the sudden cold fear instinct that rose inside her. She'd sensed Solas was powerful before, like her father, but in the Hasmal Circle he was so diminished and weak…

"No," Solas said, clipped and sharp with his own anger. "She is clearly _my_ child as much as she is yours. I did not know of her previously, but had I known I would have returned to you at once. I did not leave you by choice, Rosa." He blinked, deflating slightly as he looked away and closed his eyes. "As I said when we first met again, I had other responsibilities. I did not wish to place you at risk." He sighed and lifted his blue eyes back to her, though his gaze flicked repeatedly to Elia. "I take my responsibilities seriously, Rosa. When the time was right, I would have contacted you again."

His earnestness suggested he spoke true and her truthsaying talent had not revealed a lie, but Rosa kept her emotions in check. Eliana squirmed and struggled, kicking and fussing. Rosa clucked her tongue at the baby and then walked back to the furs around the hearth and aravel. She set Eliana down there on her tummy and stood over her daughter watchfully. Solas followed after her, cautious.

"I felt magic within her when I held her today," he murmured softly. "How old is she?"

"About five months old," Rosa replied. "She was born in late summer." She shot him a resentful look. "In case you had any doubts, let me reassure you that's nine months after you left me in the Free Marches."

He closed his eyes and shook his head, as if the comment smarted. Good, she'd intended it to, although he had not shown any doubt that Eliana was his. Rather the opposite, to her surprise. Rosa's own father had accepted Halesta's insistence that he take on a role as mentor and teacher and never reveal that he was actually her blood. Solas, however, seemed unlikely to accept such a bargain. When she'd suggested Mahanon was Eliana's father by title and right, he'd balked. It wasn't what she'd expected, but perhaps she should have. His name, _Solas,_ meant Pride. Pride does not cast away perfectly good pieces of itself.

"How…" he started to say and then flushed red as Rosa couldn't help but laugh dryly.

"You know how."

"No," he told her, brows knitting and voice sharpening with irritation. "The Dalish do not idly make children. I understand your decision, but I do not understand…" He broke off, trying again and still blushing bright red. "You did not wear a charm?"

"The Templars took it when they took my armor," Rosa snarled, angry at the memory of the Circle rather than with Solas. She couldn't stop a little bitterness though as she added, "What about you? Was it only women's duty in Elvhenan to avoid making unplanned children?"

"No," he rejoined, equally annoyed. "My charm did not survive the ages and turned to dust long before I woke from uthenera. I did not see any point to making a new one as I did not anticipate requiring it."

She snorted. "Really? Not even when you and me were fucking like bunnies?"

He looked away, jaw clenching. Finally he sighed, shoulders drooping. "I apologize. I did not consider that you did not have a charm either. In hindsight, it should have been obvious." He was red all the way to his ears. "However, I expected you would caution me of the risk and you did not."

"You're right," Rosa agreed, feeling some of her tension return. It was true. She'd known she was vulnerable and every time they lay together they could be making a child. Yet she hadn't once mentioned it. Shame gnawed at her stomach. Had she on some level _wanted_ to make a child? Was she trying to tie him to her the way her mother had with her father? She wasn't sure, so she repeated what she had always told herself. "I was reckless and I didn't think." She felt her own cheeks grow hot as she added, "Well, I did think, but it was about how great sex was with you."

His lips twisted, trying to smile but also to frown. He didn't seem to know how to react to that, other than to avoid direct eye contact. He stared down at Eliana as she tried to crawl clumsily toward the hearth. "She is a lovely child," he finally said.

"People keep telling me that," Rosa said, chuckling. "But she came out a wrinkled mess and I was stunned to see she had hair. I thought she'd be as bald as you."

Solas laughed quickly, then seemed to forcibly recompose himself. Still watching Eliana, he said, "I was not always thus. I once had more hair than you and Eliana combined. Uthenera seems to have permanently affected me."

Rosa watched Solas staring at Eliana, seemingly fascinated. Despite herself—all the long months grieving his absence and enduring the physical suffering of carrying Eliana while feeling betrayed and abandoned—the sight warmed her. She'd imagined an aloof reunion and a dispassionate encounter with Eliana. Instead she found a man who was more curious than anything else once he got over his initial shock. And, underneath it, she could still feel the strong attraction, the lure of passion.

She'd bonded with Mahanon to give Eliana a father within the clan, but she'd never loved him as raw and intensely as she had Solas. The connection with Solas was instant and powerful, like magic. This reconnection, even a hint of it, stung her with guilt and grief. Mahanon deserved more, deserved better. Her body and maternal instincts might both immediately leap to the idea of Solas as a replacement, but her heart and her mind knew better.

She cleared her throat and said, "Thank you for sitting with her today. I suspect my clan was not especially friendly." She'd been somewhat surprised when she returned from the meeting with the humans with Tal at her side to find Solas still with the elves and Eliana. The air had a frigidness that had nothing to do with the cold Frostbacks, but Rosa was still pleased to see Solas hadn't run.

He glanced at her and dipped his head. "Of course. It was my pleasure." He smiled and it wasn't wholly feigned. "As for your clan, you need not apologize. I expected nothing better and I did not deserve a warm welcome. It was clear to me they knew I was Eliana's…father." He grimaced at the word, clearly still getting used to it.

"Tal made it clear when he blurted it," Rosa muttered, shaking her head. "He was waiting for that." She shrugged. "But she _does_ resemble you. I feared the _shemlen_ running this 'Inquisition' would know the moment they laid eyes on her."

"They will know soon enough," Solas murmured and then grimaced again. "This…complicates matters." He shifted uneasily from one foot to the other and then lifted his gaze from Eliana to Rosa. "Have you noticed more demons taking an interest in you or Eliana?"

Rosa shrugged. "Elia's a Dreamer, so yes. I've seen plenty of demons since she was born." She scowled, letting a little bitterness show. "And even more before she was born." Narrowing her eyes, she summoned up her truthsaying talent. "Why do you ask?"

Solas nodded slightly at her words and then clenched his jaw tightly. "There is much I must discuss with you, but I need some time to think."

Rosa stiffened, sensing something enormous and terrible underlying his words. Considering the breach and the Conclave…she restrained a shudder. "What's going on here, Solas? You're involved somehow with this mess, aren't you?" She knelt and scooped up Eliana, holding her protectively. "Is Elia in danger?"

"Possibly," Solas admitted, frowning. His blue eyes were dark and grave as they darted over mother and child. "Probably," he amended. "By virtue of the fact she shares my blood." His posture eased slightly. "I am relieved to have found her this early when I may protect you both."

Pride made Rosa bristle, ready to snap at Solas that she had protected Eliana just fine without him this whole time. Yet she bit her tongue, knowing the words wouldn't help either of them—and most important of all, it wouldn't help Eliana. Rather than pick a fight with him, Rosa nodded and forced herself to speak her own secret knowledge. "There's some things I should tell you, too."

He smiled, tightly. "Then we are agreed. When we are ready we will meet and discuss these concerns." He motioned to Eliana. "For her benefit…we both owe one another the truth." He was pale as snow now and his hands shook slightly.

Rosa didn't comment on the tiny tremor, though she noticed it. "When we're ready."

* * *

Solas was _not_ ready for this. Just that morning the world had been a known quantity for him. His Anchor was, unexpectedly, bestowed upon and carried by a young man who should not have been able to withstand it but miraculously had. Solas was obliged to watch over and guide young Tal, not only because he bore the Anchor, but because he was Felassan's only son. His task was relatively simple: work with Tal to stop Corypheus and reclaim his orb. Then his plans would commence anew.

He had to work out some minor details regarding how to safeguard Tal during the endgame, but otherwise everything was straightforward.

And then it had all come crashing down when he found Rosa waiting for him at Haven with a child— _his_ child—at her hip. Now the weight of his past and present obligations clashed with a new reality. He hadn't had family since his parents died long, long ago. It had been thousands of years since he had the chance to see his features in anything but his reflection. Now an infant girl grinned toothlessly at him when he held her while Rosa was away and she had his eye color and lip shape, his ears, and some other ephemeral _something_ that called to him, blood to blood. For all he wished he could deny it, the baby was _his._

With all the physical characteristics she inherited, Solas couldn't help wondering what else she might carry. It was highly unlikely she would match him in power someday as even two Evanuris almost never produced other Evanuris. Yet she would be an easy mark for his enemies, many of which sought his blood to open the Black Mirror. She was already a Dreamer, likely more powerful than her mother. Would she have his natural affinity for spirits? And what of any talents Rosa might carry from her ancestors? Fen'Harel had never had children before, so no one knew whether his talents were inheritable like Dirthamen and Falon'Din's, or if they were more acquired like June's.

And, possibly the most dangerous question of all, might she and Rosa eventually aid him in taking down the Veil and reshaping the world? It was a shameful question, a hope he did not deserve, but Eliana was a new and unknown element to his plans. He could not endanger her or Rosa, but would three Dreamers (or four if he factored in his agent Zevanni) be enough to accomplish his task safely? All would be taxed by the effort but all might also be assured survival.

It just…didn't seem real most of the time.

After he left the dream he crafted for Rosa and Eliana, Solas sought out the only one he knew he could trust with this new revelation: Wisdom. He found her library, shaped to appear much like Elvhenan's great Vir Dirthara. Rows upon rows of scrolls and books stood, stretching to the horizon. The floor glowed a luxurious gold, rippling like water as he walked over it toward the table where she sat.

"Solas," she greeted him without turning to look at him. A book lay open in front of her. She was an elven woman now, translucent and green. Her shape was vague below the neck, but suggested a slim form with short hair. "A pleasure to see you, _falon."_

"A pleasure indeed," he returned her greeting, smiling and relaxing as much as he could considering the circumstances. He moved around the long table she sat at, casually brushing at the open books. "Have you learned anything that intrigued you lately?" he asked conversationally.

She lifted her head and smiled warmly at him. "A human boy teased the other children of his village and thought little of the pain he caused. I came across him when he dreamt and I showed him the dreams of his victims that he might live a time in their minds and experience their lives. When he saw himself through their eyes he realized he was not the strong or brave boy he thought, but a cruel tyrant. I hope that when he woke he will have the wisdom to recognize that harming others does not elevate him."

Solas smiled at her and chuckled softly. "A beautiful and generous gift." Wisdom was as much compassion as she was knowledge. She took little interest in shaping world history, though she did watch current events for knowledge. She enjoyed Solas' company for his great intelligence and tidbits of information while he relished her insight. There were times she read him better than he did himself. Her guidance had given him the patience he needed to control his hotheadedness in his youth.

"You do not feel he deserved it," she said, reading him blankly. There was no judgment in her tone.

"My opinion on the matter is not important," he said mildly. "And I know it to be biased. I have no true way of knowing that the boy's behavior cannot be changed by your influence, but I have never been fond of bullies and do not feel it worth my time or effort to engage with them." He'd never had much compassion for mindless brutes and wasn't about to deny it was unfair. It was a shortcoming of his own opinions and had no place in this exchange. What he felt about it—that Wisdom's actions were wasted on this bully boy—did not change that he admired her attempt.

Wisdom nodded her understanding and then shut the tome on the table. She sat back in her chair, regarding him anew. "You are troubled, _falon."_

"I am, yes," Solas admitted freely. "I have great need of wisdom at present."

"Well, you have found it. How can I help you?" The golden glow of her eyes intensified as she watched him. Solas knew she'd likely already read everything from him, but she understood the mortal need to explain and so indulged him.

Solas, however, was also accustomed to the ways of spirits and so skipped over much of his story, knowing Wisdom would already know it. "I have discovered I am…" He paused, wrestling internally with the word as a new part of his identity. "…a father. I have a daughter." He heard the hollowness of shock in his own voice and had to restrain a frown.

"It is most unexpected," Wisdom said coolly. "The Dalish do not suffer unwanted children. Resources are too scarce to do otherwise."

Now Solas did frown, irritated at the reminder of Dalish culture. While he approved of limiting births he knew that culture extended onto those already born. Mages were funneled into leadership positions, simply by virtue of being mages, for example. Those who did not suit the clan's preset roles would be outcast eventually. Tal himself was discarded by his clan simply on the cruel whims of his Keeper. Each clan was, effectively, a little dictatorship masquerading as an extended family. He _hated_ forcing any individual into a role they did not choose.

"Perhaps it is most fortuitous as well," Wisdom went on thoughtfully. "Your lover and her brother may both prove valuable allies, although their father's death would likely sour such a relationship."

Solas bristled despite himself and corrected Wisdom without thinking. "Rosa and I are no longer lovers."

Wisdom nodded sagely. "No, not at present. But within your mind she is still your heart. I have not met her to know what emotions may yet linger in her heart for you. It is wise to recognize that she may not share such sentiments and may not return your emotion. However, she is also tied irrevocably to you through the child."

"I have no wish to entrap her," Solas said. "But I am unsure how to proceed." He shouldn't pursue her romantically for so many reasons. She was newly widowed, losing her partner in the explosion at the Conclave, which _he_ was partly responsible for. Her father was dead at his hands. He had left her without a word for a year, fearing the temptation that she presented that could sway him from his task. Her brother bore his Anchor, which would kill him eventually, or at least take his arm. And she was the daughter of his closest friend. Though Felassan was dead, Solas doubted the other man would have appreciated him bedding his daughter in life. Considering the circumstances of his death—betraying Solas to try and save this modern world—it seemed like an insult to his friend's memory that he'd been involved with Rosa at all.

Yet, at the same time, he could hardly feign disinterest in Rosa and Eliana now. Even if Rosa wished nothing to do with him, Eliana was too young to make such a choice. Solas refused to abandon her now that he knew she existed. Until she made the conscious choice in full understanding, he would not passively allow Rosa or any other to deny him access to his child.

"There is always the truth," Wisdom suggested.

Solas shook his head. "I cannot risk exposure so soon. It would endanger all of my plans. And there is the matter of the child. She is young and will need my guidance and protection. Should I misstep and Rosa becomes my enemy I may be forced to flee. I would lose any chance of protecting Eliana as she grows."

"Perhaps not all at once but gradually," Wisdom added and then she rose out of her chair and floated gracefully over the gleaming floor toward him. A sympathetic expression softened her features into a look that was almost maternal as she reached out and touched his shoulder. She was not a physical being, but her touch registered on Solas' shoulder as solid and real. "I know you feel as though you must perish as penance for the suffering the People endured. I know you are ashamed of the possibility that your lover and now your daughter may be the keys to ensuring you survive what is to come."

Solas stiffened despite himself, but did not interrupt Wisdom or push her away. She was, after all, simply repeating his own darkest thoughts. He had come to her knowing she would do just this. He _needed_ to hear this.

Wisdom's fingers squeezed at his shoulder. "It is natural to fear death, particularly for one who was immortal and has never known the threat of age and disease. It is natural to long for companionship. There is wisdom in exploring all possibilities and you cannot do so without including these potential allies in a frank and open discussion."

Solas shook his head again, protesting. "There is too much at stake."

"You know the risk can be mitigated, _falon,"_ she said, her brow furrowing and her tone becoming one of light chastisement. "And there is risk with leaving your lover uninformed. The child will be vulnerable on multiple fronts."

Closing his eyes and swallowing, finding his throat thick with emotion, Solas said, "I cannot risk sacrificing the People for the sake of myself. Yes, the risk can be mitigated, but it cannot be eliminated. I owe the People a future in a new world and I am the only one who can bring it about."

Wisdom smiled tenderly. "You know you are not the villain the Dalish believe and you are prepared to die so that the People may live. But perhaps you need not be a martyr. Perhaps the choice is not yours to make, but theirs. Love them, _teach_ them, _falon._ And when you feel they are ready and the time is right, let them decide."

Just the idea of doing what Wisdom suggested set Solas' heart hammering. "Regardless of their decision," he said, swallowing again. "I lose. Should Rosa reject me and see me as an enemy, a nemesis she must kill to avenge her father, I lose both ally and child. Should Rosa accept me and choose to fight at my side…" Pain lanced across his chest. "She will likely perish with me at the end."

"The choice is a bittersweet one," Wisdom agreed. "But there is hope, is there not? You do not know with certainty that you alone will die in the undertaking. With another, and perhaps the child too, if she is old enough, all may survive."

"Better that they should live on," Solas insisted, his voice strangled. "It is what they deserve."

Wisdom smirked. "I have never known the Dread Wolf to deny another the free will and knowledge they need to make a decision for themselves. Was that not the goal behind your rebellion? To free the People from the tyranny of belief in false gods? In slavery? In the class system that marked so many as worthless when they were far from it? Before you were rebel, trickster, or wolf, you were a teacher and a scholar and a compassionate heart."

Solas let out a small breath. "You are correct, as always, my friend." He ducked his head to her in a respectful bow. "I thank you, for your guidance. In time…I will use it."

* * *

Tal's hands were bound at the wrist. Hemp ropes chafed at his ankles, too. He sat on his knees, cringing into himself in anticipation of the worst. The cackling laughter of children and teens echoed in his ears. Dappled sunlight danced on him through broadleaf trees and a bed of pine needles was beneath him, fragrant and pleasant.

Too bad everything else was shitty. Literally.

The first clod of halla dung thwacked against him. Tal winced, shutting his eyes. He could burn through the ropes in an instant if he wanted, but he knew that would make it worse. These were Firsts all around him. They all knew more than he, probably, being cherished wards of their Keepers. Tal knew a few spells and fire came very naturally to him, but overall these Firsts could easily whoop his ass in magic if he tried it. He'd learned that bullies tended to get bored if he just endured it.

"You bastard," a female voice snarled over him.

Tal lifted his head, recognizing it. He gawped as pain formed a lump in his throat. "Nola?"

His Keeper stood over him, stunning in her armor. She tossed a lump of halla dung in one palm, getting the heft of it. "You deserve this," she told him and then flung it straight for his face.

Tal lowered his head, cowering. "Nola, I'm sorry. I—"

Dung smacked into his jaw, bits of it catching on his lips. He gagged and spat, then glared in the direction that particular clod of shit had come from—only to stammer stupidly as he saw Cassandra Pentaghast. She gleamed like Nola in her own Inquisition armor, the breastplate glittering in the sunshine through the trees.

"Seeker?" he asked her, breathless. "The fuck…?"

Cassandra sneered at him and knelt to scoop more halla shit from the burlap sack at her feet. "Abomination!" she snarled as she hurled more dung at him.

"Okay," Tal said, cringing. "I _might_ deserve that title, but with that much venom? I mean, sure, I'm possessed, but it's not my fault—I don't think—and I've been helping people with the mark and all so maybe lay off a little?"

Then, behind him, Tal heard Varric call out, "Drunkard!" More halla dung hit him. From his other side he heard Revas chuckle cruelly and then felt shit smack into him from that direction, too.

Revas pelting him with dung was more than Tal could take sitting down, though. He glowered at the older elf, spitting. "You fucker. Where do you get off thinking you can throw shit at me after what you did? How did it feel to see my sister again, _flat-ear?"_

Revas let out another cold laugh. "Were you foolish enough to believe that I cared for you or your sister? You were a means to an end. I do not care about either of you."

Tal felt his cheeks grow hot. Something inside him expanded, pressing out on his ribs painfully. He breathed, hard and fast, trying to control the sudden rage that nearly overcame him. But it was impossible to deny. He wanted to slaughter Revas for the insult.

He tried to call mana, to summon fire, but it was sluggish and leaden. He fought harder, reaching deeper as Revas leered down at him…

And then someone threw water in his face.

Cursing and spluttering, Tal jerked awake and scrabbled off the cot. "Sylaise's milky tits!" He wiped at his face, blinking furiously. The floor was cold under his hands and feet as his wits slowly returned to him. He was dreaming. The halla dung pelting him must have been someone trying to shake him awake. The water was what they resorted to when he wouldn't wake.

Twisting his head, Tal sighed as he saw Rosa standing nearby, holding a small cup in one hand. Water droplets still coated it. Her expression was one of both disappointment and maternal worry. She was bulky with a sling and a fur blanket over her shoulders. "You drank yourself into a stupor," she said. "Didn't you?"

Tal scrubbed at his face and winced as pain pounded behind his eyes and through his temples. "No," he lied.

She snorted. "Come off it. You know better than to lie to me."

She knelt and grabbed his bicep, grunting as she hauled him upright. Tal clung to her as the room spun. His stomach lurched and he groaned. Rosa deposited him on his messy, unmade cot and hurried to the foyer. Tal heard something clinking and a moment later she appeared with a tray of food. The sight of it made Tal's gut twist all over again. He lifted a hand, trying to ward it away. "Please, _asamalin,_ if I see that or smell it I'm going to hurl."

She sighed and moved the tray from the bed across the room, setting it on the dresser beside the washbasin. Grabbing the washbasin, Rosa carried it over to him. "Here. Wash your face and have a sip. Maybe not in that order."

His hands were a tad shaky as he accepted the bowl from her and lifted it to his lips for a cautious sip. It was surprisingly delicious. He took a second and third swallow before a dangerous gurgle from his stomach made him stop. Rosa held the bowl for him as he splashed some water over his face and scrubbed fiercely. His mouth tasted awful so he also scrubbed at his teeth and tongue with a finger.

"Your advisors want to meet in about two hours," Rosa said.

Tal groaned. "Seriously? We just talked yesterday. It's all the same. Cullen tells me to go to the Tenplars. I tell him the Templars can suck my cock. Leliana wants me to go to the mages. I tell her sure, whatever, sign me up. I'm a mage. I like mages. All the while Josephine just stares at me like I'm some text in a foreign language she doesn't know how to read yet and is trying to learn."

"They're called _advisors_ for a reason," Rosa told him.

"Yeah? Well, I am _not_ a leader." He waved the bowl away and, as she turned to walk back to the dresser and set it down again, Tal added, "And _you_ are not my maidservant. Fuck that shit. You should be sleeping in this feather bed, not me." He lifted his left palm. "You should have this damn mark, not me."

Rosa turned round to face him, leaning on the dresser, a slight frown tugging at her lips. "My place is with my clan. So I sleep in the aravel. And the mark is yours, whether you or anyone else likes it. But…" She stabbed a finger at him. "You _can_ be a leader. So don't discount yourself. You're already doing it based on what you just told me about the advisors. You've already made up your mind."

"Yeah," Tal growled. "And I've done it before we even meet anyone. That's a shitty thing to do. I might be a dumbass but even I know you need to be less biased than that."

"It's the _shemlen_ who are biased,"Rosa muttered. "The answer here seems obvious to me and to you. That's not a fault of your character, that's you being _smart._ You know same as me that magic made the breach. Magic is needed to stop it, too. The Templars suppress magic, but they're not going to be much help stopping the breach."

Tal pinched the bridge of his nose and then pressed on his eyes. Hissing with the pain still pounding in his head, he said, "Let's not talk about the Creators-damned breach." Despite the pain, he forced himself to open his eyes and look at her, curiosity letting him overcome the agony of his hangover. "How did it go with Revas?"

Rosa's expression hardened and she looked away. One hand idly patted the lump of her sling where Eliana must be dozing or nursing since Tal couldn't currently see her fuzzy haired head poking out like a chick from the nest. "It went well enough, all things considered."

"Did you beat his ass?" Tal asked, grinning. "Cuz he totally deserves it. I hope you didn't. I want to be there if you do."

Rosa smirked at him. "Revas and I are settling things amicably for Elia's sake." The smile on her lips became less wry amusement and something softer as she added, "He seems surprisingly invested in her."

"Bout time," Tal grumbled. "If he'd said something about not knowing who her father was I was going to have to cut off his balls right there in front of your clan."

Rosa laughed once before cutting herself off and sobering. "Revas seemed to know she was his the moment he saw her, so clearly that wasn't necessary." She sighed then and her features warped with concern. "Revas and I aren't an important topic right now, _da'isamalin._ Why are you drinking like this? It's not healthy. I'm worried about you. Your advisors are worried about you."

Tal shrugged. "You'd drink too if you were their Herald."

Eliana cooed from inside her sling and Rosa shifted, craning her neck to look into the fabric pouch. She grinned tenderly down at the baby, helping adjust her until her little head could poke out. The baby blinked, looking around. When her eyes found Tal she squealed and gave her toothless grin. She babbled, spitting and trying to flap her little arms inside the sling.

"Yeah, I love you too, kiddo," Tal said, chuckling. "Great to see you." He looked to Rosa again. "She really does look a lot like him. Everyone who sees her and also knows Revas is going to guess she's his." He rubbed his palms together in malevolent glee. "I can't wait to watch him squirm when Varric and Cassandra ask about her and he has to admit he didn't know shit about her and that he was a real ass when he left you like he did."

Rosa sighed and ignored Tal's comment as she cupped Eliana's face in one hand and pulled the little girl's cheek in close for a kiss. "Sorry, sweetling," she said. _"Ba'isamalin_ can't play with you right now. He's hung-over and he has to go meet with the _shem_ advisors."

Tal groaned and flopped backwards on his cot. "Just kill me now. It'll be a mercy."

After a moment he heard Rosa's feet whisk on the floor, heading for the foyer. For one blessed moment he thought she was leaving and he could sleep, heedless that he might be missing a meeting with the Inquisition leadership. Then he heard fabric ruffle and Rosa's footsteps returned. His coat hit him and he grunted, grabbing it with one hand though he made no effort to sit up. "No. I'm not going, _mamae."_

"You are, _da'len,"_ Rosa said, playing along in a singsong voice that, right now, hurt his skull. "Now put on your coat. Cold fresh air is the best thing for you right now."

"Wine is the best thing for me," Tal retorted, but he sat up and shrugged on his coat anyway. He knew Rosa wouldn't take no for an answer. He heaved himself off the bed and stumbled, throwing out an arm to catch himself. "Fuck. Dizzy."

Rosa sighed, disappointed. "Some day soon I'm going to have to ask you to mind your curses around Elia. I don't really want her to start off with a potty mouth first thing."

"Never knew you were a prude," Tal said and then burped only to half-gag, swallowing bile.

Rosa took his bicep and started walking with him for the door. "Let's go make our morning rounds." The door squeaked as it swung open and Tal hissed through his teeth as both the cold and the white light hit him like glass on his skin and eyes.

"Naw," he grumbled. "Changed my mind. Let's go back to bed." He pulled against Rosa but her grip was like iron. She led him on, past the other cabins and to the main thoroughfare. Tal saw the sails of the aravel sticking up over the walls and the smoke of their hearthfire climbing higher into the morning sky.

They turned toward the chantry, climbing up the steps to where Varric stood, beefy arms crossed over his chest. He grinned as he saw them both and spread his arms wide in a welcoming motion. "Violet! Great to see you again!"

"Varric Tethras," Rosa greeted him in turn with a huge smile. "Glad to see we both got out of that miserable tower in the end. I've missed your stories though. And your delightful drinking games."

The dwarf chuckled. "There's more where that came from but…" he broke off and motioned at Eliana, still visible poking her head from her sling. "Might not be a good idea with this one around." He waved at the baby. "Who might this be?"

"My daughter," Rosa said, beaming. "Eliana."

"A pleasure to meet you, little miss," Varric said, taking a step closer to chuck the baby under her chin. His gaze flicked to Tal. "You never told me you were an uncle, Stoic."

Tal could barely keep his eyes open through the pain in his head brought on by the bright morning, but he managed to shrug. If he'd had more energy he'd have admitted the truth, but it might antagonize Rosa so he decided not to. Varric was smart enough chances were high he already knew. Leliana had to know the truth and she probably debriefed Cassandra. Varric tended to whittle gossip out of everyone, or absorb it through osmosis.

Eliana squealed joyfully and tried to reach for Varric as he pulled his hand back from her. "She likes you," Rosa told him.

"She likes everyone," Tal blurted, unable to help himself.

"I'll have to write the guild," Varric said, grinning. "They make these mechanized toys that move and make sound. Drives the kids in Kirkwall crazy. Sell like hotcakes, too." He winked. "First one's on me."

"Thank you," Rosa said graciously. "That's very generous of you!"

"My pleasure!" Varric said and chuckled. "She's a cute one."

Tal zoned out, grimacing with pain as Rosa thanked him and then excused the both of them. They walked right toward the tavern. Rosa kept tugging on his bicep, straightening him out as he stumbled when the world spun crazily, colors and sounds streaking together. "Dread Wolf take this hangover," he growled.

"I doubt the old trickster would help with your headache," Rosa chided as they walked through the tavern door. A high fire roared in the fireplace, crackling and heating the room. Tal relaxed a little only to wince as the wall of sound hit him as the other patrons' voices drilled at his ears.

Rosa half-dragged him to the bar and plopped him onto a stool. "The Herald needs a glass of milk," she told the barkeep, Flissa.

"Milk?" Flissa asked and grunted. "S'pose I could manage one of those." She turned and began riffling through her glasses. The sound of the glass clinking together made Tal grind his teeth with pain.

"I'm not hungry or thirsty," he grumbled.

"You just woke up and you're hung-over," Rosa reminded him as she sat on the stool next to him and stroked Eliana's brown-red hair, finger-combing it. The baby grinned up at her mother adoringly. "The milk will help—if you can keep it down."

Tal sighed and tried not to vomit when Flissa set a glass of milk in front of him. Before he could say or do anything Rosa took the glass and produced a small herb pouch. A moment later she added a pinch of a yellow-green something into it and used a finger to stir it. Then she pushed it back to him over the bar and pocketed the pouch again. "Drink."

"What was that?" Tal asked her, frowning.

"A little something to help with the pain," she told him with a smirk.

"And you just carry that around now?" Tal asked, arching a brow.

Rosa scoffed. "Have you ever tried living with a cranky baby cutting her first teeth? Or before that, dealing with birth pains?"

Tal sighed and took the glass. "Fine, I get it." He took a slow, cautious sip and frowned, choking it down.

"Cute babe, miss," Flissa said. "Don't see too many wee ones round these parts."

"Thank you," Rosa said, beaming again as she returned to stroking Eliana's hair. "My clan lost people in the explosion." Her voice and features darkened with loss. "My bond partner died in the blast. I'm here with my clan to bury him."

"She's also my sister," Tal put in blearily. "And she's here to babysit me."

Flissa covered her lips with one hand, smothering a smile. "Oh! Well," she said. "Welcome to Haven then, miss…"

"Rosa Lavellan," Rosa introduced herself for what Tal realized would be only the first of many this day. He let his forehead thump on the wooden bar and groaned, praying Rosa's pain relieving herbs would work fast.

"`Twas the babe's father who died in the blast then?" Flissa questioned suddenly.

"Yes," Rosa lied. Tal withheld his disbelieving snort. Barely. He'd overheard the sounds of passion that probably made Eliana. In _his_ aravel, of all places. And it wasn't Mahanon who'd been rutting with her, though Han was a good enough man, albeit a little extra bigoted and insecure for an elf.

 _Creators, I'm such an ass thinking poorly of the dead._

Flissa clicked her tongue. "Such a shame. I'm so sorry. So many lost in this tragedy. And the breach just up there in the sky, staring down at us like the eye of some huge demon."

"I still can't believe he's gone—that they're all gone. It's awful," Rosa said. "Luckily we have my brother to close it."

 _No pressure,_ Tal thought sarcastically.

A grueling half hour passed as Tal gradually drank the milk Rosa ordered for him and slowly started to feel a little relief from his pain. When Tal heard Seeker Pentaghast's authoritative voice at the entry he cursed and started to bolt for the opposite door, but Rosa caught his sleeve. He glared at his sister as Cassandra barged into the tavern, pushing aside a half-drunk man as she approached the bar wearing a scowl. "Herald," she said. "Thank the Maker. I could not find you. You weren't in your cabin."

Did Tal imagine it or did her voice carry nails in it meant to dig into his ears? He grimaced and cringed back from her, remembering his dream. "Uh…yeah…"

Cassandra's eyes slid to Rosa and she seemed to start before recomposing herself. "Ah. You are the Herald's sister. I remember you from the Hasmal Circle." She shifted from one foot to the other, a touch awkward—especially when she registered Eliana. "Rosa…Lavellan, was it?"

Leliana _had_ debriefed her, then. When Cassandra first met Rosa her name would have been Rosa Naseral as it was before she joined clan Lavellan. Tal smirked knowingly, shooting Rosa a look, wondering if she'd caught it too. If she had, Rosa made no sign of it as she nodded to the Seeker respectfully. "Yes, I remember you, Seeker Pentaghast. I'd like to thank you for not killing my brother when he was found as the sole survivor."

Cassandra frowned. "No thanks is needed," she said, but she was flushing. "But I must borrow the Herald."

"Of course," Rosa said and got off her barstool. She hooked her arm through Tal's and hauled him with her. "I'll walk him to the chantry."

Tal let out a longsuffering sigh and gave in, allowing Rosa to walk him out of the tavern with the Seeker. But Cassandra seemed uncomfortable with the arrangement. "It is not necessary for you to escort the Herald," she protested.

"I don't mind," Rosa said.

"She's here to make sure I actually go to the meeting," Tal grumbled.

"I'm afraid I must insist," Cassandra said stiffly.

Tal frowned, realizing this was not a polite _you don't have to do this_ from the Seeker but rather a frank dismissal. As though she did not trust Rosa. They stopped walking just beyond the tavern as Rosa stared at the Seeker, a small frown on her lips and furrowing her brow. The Seeker stared back at her, stoic and implacable. In the silence only the whistle of the wind through Haven could be heard—until Eliana cooed and broke the standoff.

Rosa blinked and then released Tal to hold her baby close with one arm while the other hand stroked Eliana's head. She made a soothing sound but Eliana's cooing warped into a fussing sound. Rosa clucked her tongue. "I'm sorry," she said to both the Seeker and to Tal. "I should be returning to my clan. Elia's getting restless." She turned on her heel and marched away.

Tal watched her go, baffled at this exchange. Facing the Seeker, he saw her posture had relaxed. "What was that all about?"

Cassandra shook her head. "It is nothing. Come. The others are waiting."

Heaving yet another sigh, Tal followed her toward the chantry.

* * *

 **Next Chapter**

Leliana's smile was cunning now. "You knew her well, indeed."

She was trying to discomfiture him. It was working, he had to admit. He felt himself flush again and cleared his throat, averting his eyes a moment as he quickly considered his next words. Leliana had multiple goals here. _He_ must be under some suspicion again as well. Better to be truthful than evasive.

"I did, yes," he said and locked gazes with her once more. "She and I were lovers during our time together at Hasmal. We parted ways after the Circle fell. I have no wish to live with the Dalish while she intended to become First to a clan. Our paths clearly divided there, much to our mutual regret." He paused a beat and then, forcing his voice to be strong and cool, he added, "I am her child's father. I did not know it until yesterday."

* * *

Sorry in a rush updating this. Work slog, holidays, blah.

Thank you CatNapObsessed! Your outline of the first meeting was so hilarious I laughed out loud.

Frogbutton, so thrilled you're loving him! As for his romance I am still on the fence, but I definitely want to explore the Dorian avenue way more than we did previously where it was just hinted at because Rosa was basically like, "Don't want to know, little bro." I wanted to submit to the Twitter DA4 day but wimped out. And DnD Tal is going to happen in the next few weeks, so exciting!

Thank you for taking the time to review KiraChan! No worries if you miss one on either story. I hope your vacation was fabulous! And that shit-eating grin was basically universal for last update, I think!

Cookie, thank you for stopping by as always! I so enjoyed torturing Solas last chapter. There is seriously something SO rewarding about it! Probably all the times he's broken my Lavellan's hearts, all like six playthrus.

Weaving in a little plot now, but still aiming for lots of hilarity. The sibling-swap has some unintended, interesting consequences when I consider it politically, which I will examine next chapter. See, when Rosa is Herald and possessed she *loathes* Solas and Tal is this funny, quirky playboy. When you role reverse the Herald becomes this vulnerable, impressionable, and inexperienced youth who is clearly overwhelmed and in swoop both Solas and Rosa who get along better now in this version minus Rogathe. Pair that with the shared past in Hasmal and some suspicious minds in certain Inquisition members and...yeah. I am sure you can imagine there will be concerns. But that's not until next time!


	4. Rosa on Probation

**Four**

Rosa On Probation

* * *

Solas was in the process of dressing—simple as it was for him with such austere, homespun garb—when heavy footsteps pounded outside his door. A second later fists echoed the footsteps, banging. "Revas!" a gruff male voice called. "Open up!"

Frowning at this intrusion, Solas secured the first of his foot wraps and then rose from his chair and walked to the door. When he opened it and found four Inquisition soldiers and one of the Conclave's few surviving Templars who'd not left Haven glowering back at him, Solas' blood flashed icy cold.

"Can I help you?" he asked, trying to keep his voice calm and not betray the sudden panic fluttering inside.

"You're to come with us," the leader ordered and motioned at his comrades. Two of them barged their way into the cabin, pushing rudely past him. Both soldiers immediately began gathering his things, collecting scrolls and tomes. They grabbed his traveling bag and opened it, stuffing his research items carelessly into it.

Solas frowned, alarmed at this, but bit the protests that rose to his tongue. He had nothing to hide here, truly. The only items that might be incriminating were the occasional texts where he had written something cryptic in elven. But the _shemlen_ here wouldn't likely realize how odd that was—considering written elven was only preserved amongst the Dalish and a few scholars now, and most of it was beyond translation without a magical understanding behind it. Leliana was smart enough she might realize it strange, but she'd have no way of reading it. The other assemblage of texts, tomes, and scrolls he acquired would be easily and legitimately explained as attempts to understand the breach or esoteric historical details on ancient ruins and spirits. All subjects were ones he made no secret of being fascinated with. Cassandra and Leliana even approved them and worked to get him more resources.

Why were they doing this?

As the fourth Inquisition soldier came behind him to usher him outside, Solas at last hesitated. "I must don my other wrap," he said, indicating his bare calf.

The soldier glanced at the Templar and his leader outside. The man nodded while the Templar, a woman Solas had seen skulking about Haven with Cullen's troops, just shrugged. Her stance did not indicate that she expected trouble. Or, if she did, she didn't think Solas worthy of concern and that she would easily control him.

With wordless permission, Solas returned to his chair and quickly applied the other foot wrap. Then, with that done, he allowed the soldiers to march him toward the Chantry, two soldiers for him and two for his belongings. The Templar had hold of his staff and had made a cursory examination of it before looking unimpressed. His staff was handcrafted and would appear of poor quality to her. Of course the Templar and these soldiers didn't know that Solas was deadly with or without a staff.

At the chantry the soldiers led him to the room where they had held Tal while he was unconscious. The cells they passed were empty but for a waiflike scrawny human boy who watched them pass sullenly. At Solas' stare the soldier behind him said, "Boy stole from the trader."

"I see," Solas said. "Was it food that he stole?"

"Aye," the soldier replied. "But none of your business, ser."

"Perhaps I might repay the trader the item's worth to free the boy?" Solas asked. The boy's eyes widened at this but he said nothing.

The leader grunted. "Take it up with Seeker Pentaghast and Sister Nightingale." He motioned them forward to the end room where a table had been set up with three chairs. Solas walked stiffly into the space and immediately saw Leliana lurking in the left corner. _Fitting,_ he thought. She was the former left hand of the Divine.

"Have a seat, Revas," Leliana said, gesturing with an elegant wave of her gloved hand toward the chairs on his side of the roughly hewn table. It had a look like it might give him a splinter for merely staring at it. Still, Solas did not hesitate as he pulled the chair out and sat. The soldiers filed in behind him, setting down his travel pack and his bundled scrolls, books, and other items of note. They marched back out then and only the Templar and the lead guard remained as the heavy door with its metal bars along the top slammed shut.

Solas rested his hands in his lap and affected as relaxed a posture as he could. "My apologies, Lady Nightingale, but I am afraid I do not know why I am here. Have some charges been levied against me?"

Leliana's smile was cold and her blue eyes narrowed. She tucked her gloved hands behind her back and strode closer to the table out of the left corner. "No charges. I merely wished to speak with you regarding some disturbing reports I've received."

Solas arched both brows. "Disturbing reports?" Mind racing, he struggled to keep his fear from showing. Not knowing was the worst. He didn't know what she might mean. Had Rosa betrayed him as a survivor of Elvhenan? Had she suspected his orb somehow in the explosion? Had the Inquisition discovered one of his spies currently infiltrating their ranks? Had Tal just made up something in a drunken stupor to get him in trouble for fun? It could be anything.

"Yes," Leliana said and sat across from him. "Regarding the Dalish woman Rosa Lavellan."

 _This_ was unexpected. Solas felt himself flushing hot and then abruptly cold as new possibilities raced to the fore. It _would_ be suspicious to Leliana and Cassandra that three mages from the same Circle were all so deeply involved with the Conclave in one way or another. Rosa was an outlier previously, but her appearance in Haven must have raised alarm bells. As much as his mind immediately jumped to the irrational idea that this was an interrogation to determine Eliana's paternity—such things were serious matters in Elvhenan, where a child's pedigree was _very_ important in the higher classes to further society's understanding of magical inheritance—he knew that wouldn't matter to these humans. It was more likely related to the Hasmal Circle's fall in rebellion and his role with Rosa in it.

"I know her, yes," Solas admitted, keeping his voice calm and even.

"We discussed your involvement with Talassan in the Hasmal Circle, prior to the Conclave," Leliana reminded him. "You were friends with the Herald then, before he was sent away to another Circle."

"I was, yes," Solas said truthfully. He had gone over this with Leliana once before, just after the explosion as the Nightingale gathered information about their sole survivor. "Our acquaintance ended when the Templars sent the Herald away." He did not specify why that happened. It wasn't uncommon for mages to be transferred from one Circle to another for whatever reason. Population control, leadership changes, personality balances. The Circle was a community and the Templars managed it as the jailors. Troublemakers were sometimes transferred, but more likely it was due to the Templars disapproving of a budding relationship, whether it was platonic or romantic. The Templars could not allow their charges to unite.

Leliana nodded. "He was transferred because the Templars discovered Rosa was his sister, is that correct?"

Solas had never supplied that information, but there was no reason to hide it now. "Yes. To ensure we were suitably pacified as prisoners," he said sardonically. "It was necessary for the Templars to separate family members."

The Templar standing in the right corner behind him, adjacent to the door, huffed in wordless protest to that description. Solas did not react. Leliana's lip twitched, however, a sure sign of her opinions. Solas had long since gathered that Leliana favored the rebellion and wished for greater freedom for mages. She would not much care then about Tal hiding his blood-kinship with Rosa. She likely approved of that defiance.

But clearly something else about the Circle bothered her, and Solas could already guess what it was. He had not revealed much about Rosa in his initial interrogations with Cassandra and Leliana, other than he knew that Tal had a sister who was not present at the Conclave. They had agreed with him and revealed that indeed, Rosa was not one of the mercenaries hired for defense at the Conclave. That was all the reassurance Solas needed at the time to be relieved that Rosa was safe and hadn't perished because of him in the explosion. That knowledge had been enough to keep him sane as he waited on Tal to awaken.

Now he thought he knew what had triggered Leliana's renewed fear and suspicion. Initially she seemed to dismiss Solas and Tal's connection as happenstance. After all, there were other mages from the Hasmal Circle at the Conclave, too. Most died in the explosion, but through "luck" Solas had not. And Tal was chosen by Andraste, for whatever reason. But he was clearly Dalish, through and through, and never expected anything like this. Everyone who knew the "Herald" for more than a few minutes came away thinking him a strange, lucky youth who was still stunned by the Conclave and clearly untested as a leader. He was still "divine" due to the Anchor, unquestionably, but had he not possessed the mark he'd be a nobody.

Yet, when Rosa showed up, even with an infant, she bore herself as a leader. When she introduced herself to the Inquisition leadership, arriving while Tal, Solas, Varric, and Cassandra were away, they must have doubtless welcomed her as needed counsel for their feckless Herald. Once Cassandra returned, however, she must have cast suspicion on Rosa. In the short time Rosa was in the Hasmal Circle she had been accused of murder through blood magic and routinely found herself in trouble. It was Cassandra who ended up vouching for her, but now the Seeker must have second-guessed her own past judgment. Had she conferred with other Templars from Hasmal and learned Rosa was implicated in the original Knight-Commander's death, too? Rosa must appear to them like a demon swooping into their Inquisition to whisper into the ear of its Herald, who would be helpless to resist as her little brother.

So, naturally, they were trying to gather more Intel on Rosa. Fast.

"Yes," Leliana agreed. "I had heard of that practice in Circle towers. I understand it's standard procedure. I do not agree with it," she admitted. Establishing trust through shared belief was a common tactic for interrogation. She would establish a repertoire with him to get the most honest answers she could for the harder questions to come.

"Yes," Solas said, playing along. "Rosa was crushed when the Templars sent the Herald away. They are very close." That was all true. "I did not know what became of him," Solas lied. "I was stunned to see he was at the Conclave and had survived the blast, of course. And very pleased, naturally."

Leliana leaned forward on the table with her elbows, then rested her gloved hands on it. "Cassandra has expressed some concerns about Rosa. There was at least one unusual death that Rosa was implicated in while she was interred within the Circle." She pressed a little closer to him. "You were there, Revas. And clearly you knew her well." The phrasing there, seemingly innocent, made Solas fight back a grimace. Leliana must suspect or know outright Eliana was his daughter.

"Tell me honestly," the spymaster went on, "do you think her intentions here with the Herald are for everyone's best interests?"

"Indubitably," Solas replied immediately. "As I said, Rosa and Tal are very close. She would never do anything to harm him. I believe she may be the only one who can ensure he reaches his true potential as a leader. His position here as Herald has been quite a shock to him, as I am sure you've noticed."

Leliana nodded. "And do you believe Rosa Lavellan responsible for the death attributed to her in the Circle?"

Solas feigned ignorance and frowned. "I'm sorry, Lady Nightingale. I'm afraid I don't know to what you're referring." He paused a moment and then affected a very somber, grave mood. "There were many deaths when the Circle fell. Not just at Hasmal, but across Thedas. Rosa and I barely escaped with our lives when Hasmal fell. There was a fire. We had been confined to quarters. We both nearly suffocated."

What _looked_ like real sympathy flashed across her features, but Solas could not be sure, of course. "My understanding is a certain Templar with whom she had an unpleasant exchange died suspiciously in his sleep."

Now Solas pretended confusion for a moment before letting feigned understanding dawn. "Ah," he said, nodding. "I recall the Templar. He was a brute. We were not saddened to hear of his death. But no, Lady Nightingale, Rosa had no part in his death. How could she? We were locked in dormitories over night. The man may have ingested too much lyrium or some other substance that killed him while he slept. Such violent men are prone to weaknesses of all types."

"Yes," Leliana agreed. "But you must admit there is motive. It would be very natural for the Knight-Captain and Knight-Commander to assume her involvement through blood magic."

"Seeker Pentaghast waived those charges," Solas said. "Rosa underwent a trial to ascertain whether she was a blood mage." He frowned. "She is most certainly not. Therefore, there is no other feasible means she could have killed the Templar in question. It is far more likely that he succumbed to his own vices, as I said."

Leliana's smile was cunning now. "You knew her well, indeed."

She was trying to discomfiture him. It was working, he had to admit. He felt himself flush again and cleared his throat, averting his eyes a moment as he quickly considered his next words. Leliana had multiple goals here. _He_ must be under some suspicion again as well. Better to be more truthful than evasive.

"I did, yes," he said and locked gazes with her once more. "She and I were lovers during our time together at Hasmal. We parted ways after the Circle fell. I had no wish to live with the Dalish while she intended to become First to a clan. Our paths clearly diverged there, much to our mutual regret." He paused a beat and then, forcing his voice to be strong and cool, he added, "I am her child's father. I did not know it until yesterday."

The nightingale's sculpted red brow arched and her eyes widened slightly. Solas knew better than to believe she reacted genuinely. She had to have known Eliana was his daughter. Perhaps her reaction was disbelief in his honesty or doubt that he had truly not known he fathered a child on Rosa. Whatever her thoughts, it mattered not. It was the shameful truth. Now, if Rosa lied about it, Leliana would probably see shame rather than duplicity. He hoped Rosa wouldn't lie, however, so their stories matched.

"I appreciate your honesty, Revas," she said, again sounding genuine. She did not, however, reveal a prior suspicion to that end. "You had no contact with her since the fall of the Hasmal Circle?"

He shook his head. "No. As I said, we parted—regretful but amicable." He clamped his mouth shut before more truth could spill out: guilt for his absence, regret that he had not been with her as she carried and birthed his daughter.

Leliana seemed to see the emotion on his face, however, and her features softened. "Thank you, Revas," she said. "I have one last question."

He waited patiently, staring at the spymaster.

"Did _you_ have any part in the death of the Templar we discussed?"

The question made him blink, surprised. He hadn't expected that. His mind churned quickly, connecting things he'd said with how Leliana's thought process must be working. She'd confirmed he was deeply involved with Rosa as her lover during their time in the Circle. He'd expressed disgust for the Templar Rosa _had_ indeed killed, though not through blood magic and not purposefully. Leliana must have decided, as perhaps Cassandra now suspected too, that _he_ was as much a suspect as Rosa. And, more importantly, Cassandra and the Circle Templars had _not_ evaluated Solas as a blood mage. Perhaps they had always had the wrong suspect.

Solas could see it in his mind's eye. The Templar who sexually harassed and threatened Rosa. And then Solas saw himself staring on in quiet rage. The Templar threatened and hurt the woman he loved. Of _course_ he would lash out.

Except he hadn't. Rosa faced the Templar in a dream, killing him, and mistakenly doing so in reality because she was a Dreamer. She did not know the depths of her own powers. But he could never tell Leliana that.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I suppose you could claim I had motive just as Rosa did, yes. I despised the man, I will admit. He was not well liked among the mages for obvious reasons."

The Templar in the corner scoffed but said nothing. Leliana shot the other woman a quick glare. The Templar's expression went impassive. Solas' staff was strapped to her back for safekeeping. The roughhewn head of it stuck up over the templar's left shoulder.

"I had nothing to do with his death," Solas repeated firmly. "As I said, such brutes commonly have vices aside from cruelty and violence. His death was a natural one and fortuitous in that Rosa and many of the mages no longer experienced daily fear of assault under his tyranny."

Leliana sat back in her chair, hands clasping in front of her. "Would you be opposed to a trial similar to the one the Circle imposed on Rosa to determine whether she was a blood mage?"

Solas lifted his hands, palms out in a display of being disarmed. "I have nothing to hide, Lady Nightingale. I know no blood magic. Its practice interferes with the lucid dreaming I practice. As such, I have avoided it at all costs." That was almost entirely true. He _did_ know a basic blood magic used for sealing and binding. But he used it _very_ sparingly, once every hundred years or so and never since he'd woken.

This tidbit made Leliana frown with the first genuine surprise Solas had seen. She opened her mouth to ask something else and then shut it again, apparently thinking better of it. She likely wished to ask if that was true but knew better than to do so with him and in so doing reveal ignorance. Instead she'd seek out Templars and mages later, trying to ascertain whether that was true or not. If it was—and it was, of course—they'd know Solas almost certainly _was_ innocent.

Ironic, then, that they had not realized there was another means beyond blood magic and both Solas and Rosa possessed it.

"You are free to go," Leliana told him then. "We will return your things later today or summon you again should we have further questions."

Solas nodded to her. "My thanks, Lady Nightingale."

As he rose from his seat and moved for the door, Leliana called out, "Revas?"

He paused and turned round to face her. A dark expression clouded her features. "Do not seek Rosa out this morning."

"Of course," he said, smiling dryly. If he did immediately go to Rosa they would see it as collusion.

He left the cell behind and walked briskly past the cells. The boy stared after him, hopeful eyes wide. Solas made a mental note to seek out Cassanra and ask if he could pay for the boy's theft charge. He looked very skinny for a _shemlen_ child. There was a good chance one of his parents had died in the Conclave and he was now bereft and starving—and it was therefore Solas' fault.

As he reached the chantry doors they groaned and sung open. He froze, watching as more soldiers marched in, fully armored. In the middle of their group was Rosa, huddling under her furs and burdened with the sling as usual. Her eyes flew to him and for an instant he saw fear, vulnerability, and longing. Then it was gone and she looked away, patting the sling where Eliana's head could be seen just poking out so her hair, eyes, and the tips of her ears were visible, proudly elven.

Or _Elvhen_ , really. She was two-thirds Elvhen, more a daughter of Elvhenan than the Dalish. Felassan's granddaughter, great-granddaughter to Dirthamen. Direct descendant of Mythal, Elgar'nan, and Falon'Din.

And, of course, Fen'Harel's _daughter._

Dropping his gaze, Solas waited for them to pass and then marched out of the chantry.

* * *

"What do you _mean_ I can't take my own sister to this ridiculous Creators-damned meeting in Val Royeaux?" Tal demanded, gesticulating wildly with his irritation. He was fidgety and cranky, itching for the moment he would be free of this stuffy meeting with these paranoid _shems._ They were supposed to be advisors, as Rosa said, but they seemed more like shepherds and babysitters. That thought only made him angry. Sure, he needed all the help he could get being this "Herald" of theirs. But who did these _shems_ think they were, anyway? They should be more concerned with protecting him from the Chantry clerics instead of trying to distance him from Rosa.

"Rosa Lavellan is under investigation for crimes she may have committed while in the Hasmal Circle," Cassandra said in a growl. "We cannot bring a dissident to see the grand clerics. It is too risky."

"A dissident?" Tal asked, flapping his hands in consternation. "What in the void are you on about? Did you drink some tainted lyrium or something?"

"Seekers do not drink lyrium," Cassandra corrected him in a snarl. "We do not require it as Templars do. And you know Rosa was a troublemaker in the Circle. You were there. Do not lie to us."

"I'm not lying," Tal told her, gritting his teeth. Glancing at the others assembled around the enormous map of southern Thedas, Tal spluttered and tried to find something coherent to say. Cullen and Josephine both appeared stern but impassive, difficult to read. Leliana was silent, standing furthest from the table. She'd arrived late to the meeting, which was unlike her. Tal was starting to realize she must have been interrogating Rosa. Panic fluttered like a hummingbird's wings inside his chest, worrying for his sister and niece. As happy and relieved as he was to see her here at Haven…if the _shems_ weren't going to trust her she should flee for her own protection.

Taking in a breath as he tried to calm the tremor in his hands, Tal started over. "Rosa has a stubborn streak. She didn't take to being in the Circle well. I handled it better. She was angry. She was a leader for her birth clan, before she was—" He caught himself just in time, before admitting she was banished. "Before she left because her clan had too many mages." He sucked in another long, calming breath. "You know we're Dalish. We didn't belong in that Circle. The Templars at Hasmal had _no_ reason to detain us."

"He's correct," Leliana said, speaking for the first time since arriving when she'd begged their pardon for her tardiness. "Dalish should not be kept in Circle towers. It is a recipe for dissention, indeed."

"See," Tal said, pointing at Leliana and looking challengingly to Cassandra. "See what I mean? It didn't matter with me because I was never an apprentice to a Keeper. I wasn't trained to be a leader. She was. So, yeah, she was furious that she was trapped there. It was fucking awful! The Templars picked on her because she's proud—and because she's a woman. And elven."

Cullen looked queasy at this, grimacing as he turned his head. Josephine stared down at her ledger, brow beetling. Cassandra curled her lip but said nothing. Leliana, meanwhile, was cool and impassive still. Even though she'd seemed to rise to his defense with her comment, Tal _hated_ that unreadable expression. At least when Rosa was being cunning she tended to look snarky and coy.

"There is indeed a terrible tendency in Circles for abuse of mages like Rosa," Leliana said. "But no one is denying that, your worship. The matter in question is not whether she was mistreated or whether you and she belonged at Hasmal. Instead, we are concerned that she may be a poor choice to bring to what we hope will be peace talks or a chance at alliance." Her blue eyes were steely, drilling into him. "We do not know who may be present at the meeting. What if it is a cleric from Hasmal who knows of that Circle's inner workings? I've also heard rumors that some Templars have returned to Val Royeaux to rejoin the chantry. What if the Knight-Captain from Hasmal is present and recognizes your sister?"

Tal shrugged. "So what? So she was in Hasmal. So what if that Circle fell to rebellion, like all the others in Thedas?"

"She was accused of murdering a Templar," Cassandra snapped. "Not of inciting rebellion. Clearly that happened regardless of her presence." She narrowed her eyes. "Unless you know she fomented the violence in that Circle."

Tal frowned, heart racing. He _did_ know. She _had_ fomented the violence there, with help from Revas. It happened after Tal's departure, but he always knew that was their escape plan. His job as a non-Dreamer was just to integrate and spy throughout. He was _very_ good at it, too.

"She was pretty vocal about not belonging there, so she probably planned to bust out," Tal said, playing loose and risky with the truth. But it seemed obvious, too. Rosa didn't belong in the Circle. She wanted out. To pretend she wouldn't be involved with the rebellion was silly. "But she didn't murder anyone." That was a lie, of course. Tal was proud of how smooth it came out, too.

"What about Revas?" Leliana asked suddenly. "Did he murder the Templar Rosa was accused of killing?"

"No, not a chance," Tal said and laughed before he could stop himself.

"What's so funny?" Cassandra snapped.

"Nothing," Tal said and then snickered again, covering it with his sleeve. "It's just Revas was weaker than a kitten back then. He had some kind of accident in a ruin somewhere and had his magic drained."

"How curious," Leliana said thoughtfully, clearly intrigued.

Tal grinned to cover the sudden sinking in his stomach, sure he'd fucked up just now. Revealing Revas' weakness had seemed like a great idea to convince them that he wasn't a suspect. Maybe that wasn't true.

"I recall that," Cassandra said, nodding. She glanced to the other advisors. "The artifact was found with him and stored in the Circle's archives." After a beat she added, "I do not know what became of it when the Circle fell."

Tal shrugged when Leliana and Cullen both shot him curious, but passing glances. None of them expected he would know what became of it. He _did_ know, though. Rosa helped Revas reclaim it, for reasons she wouldn't reveal. It was good the _shems_ didn't think he knew about it. He kept his mouth shut.

"Back to the matter at hand," Josephine said, clearing her throat. Void take him, but Tal enjoyed watching her lips move. They were perfectly shaped and inviting. Then again, Cullen had a nice mouth, too, and puppy dog eyes.

 _Fenedhis,_ he thought and swallowed, feeling suddenly hot. He needed a drink. Badly. And maybe a nice romp with someone.

Nola's face flashed before his mind's eye and he grimaced, staring down at his feet with a rush of shame.

"I'm sorry, Herald," Josephine was saying, oblivious to his internal struggle. "But it would be unwise to bring Rosa Lavellan to this meeting. It is a risk we cannot afford to take. We must be seen as neutral and approachable. The grand clerics will not view a companion such as Rosa Lavellan as neutral."

He scowled. "Then I shouldn't bring Revas, either. He's not neutral. He's an apostate. A _real_ apostate, while Rosa and I are Dalish."

"What the ambassador is trying to say," Cullen said, with surprising gentleness, "is adding her into the mix will disrupt the balance you've currently achieved. Revas is an apostate, yes, but Cassandra is a Seeker and well-respected in both the chantry and by the Templars. Varric is uninvolved as a dwarf. Your group is somewhat balanced without her."

"It's not balanced," Tal grumbled. "That's ridiculous. No one is going to look at us and think we aren't leaning toward the mage side of things." He motioned at Cassandra. "She doesn't count as two people. Because you forgot me in your description. I'm a mage, too."

"Yes," Cullen conceded with a nod. "But you are Dalish, as you said. The grand clerics will not know what to make of you."

"They will think of you as Dalish firstly," Leliana added. "They will think the same of Rosa, as well, but that again draws things out of balance as the Commander said."

Tal scoffed. "You just _really_ don't want Rosa there, do you?"

"She should not make such a long journey regardless," Cassandra said. "She has an infant child. It is better for her to remain here."

"We're Dalish," Tal snapped. "All we do is make long journeys. My ancestors walked all the way from Tevinter to the Dales. We're used to it." He shrugged. "Besides, she already walked down from the Free Marches to get here."

Cassandra shook her head, still clearly disapproving. "I cannot condone it. On multiple levels."

"Yeah?" Tal growled. "Too bad. I want her advice. She's _my_ sister and even though you lot might not trust her, I do. If you don't like that then fine. Show me the door."

Josephine was wide eyed with alarm. "Herald, please! We are not suggesting she should be driven from Haven. We are only asking you to be reasonable and reconsider."

"She may not even wish to travel, as well," Leliana said. "I understand your heritage is nomadic, but she has not joined the Inquisition in an official capacity yet and she has both her clan and a very young child to care for. It is unfair for you to make these demands of her, is it not?"

Tal winced, feeling the weight of that argument. Winter and spring were both seasons of disease and human cities were filthy places. Eliana was young and vulnerable. She could catch any number of illnesses and, this young, would likely suffer a great deal. Clan life was fairly sheltered, but everyone knew young children often caught human diseases after the clan traded with them in spring.

Probably sensing weakness, Cullen added, "Additionally, we cannot know what dangers may be encountered on the road or within the city. It is a dangerous scenario for you, Herald. It will be for her, as well."

Tal rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. "Okay, I get it. You all think Rosa is some kind of murderous rebel who the grand clerics will hate on sight and refuse to talk with us. Honestly, I don't think they're going to like _me_ alone any better." He motioned at himself and then let his hands flop against his thighs, defeated. "Look. I didn't ask her to come here. She came here because she wanted to be here for me. This isn't exactly coming naturally to me." He smirked, self-deprecatingly. "I'm sure you've all noticed that."

Cullen pretended to stare at the map, engrossed with the chess piece for Val Royeaux. Josephine was again staring furiously at her ledger. Cassandra looked bored and Leliana smiled, amused at his honesty.

"Thank you for taking our advice into consideration, Herald," Cullen said formally and then went on a little more candidly. "I am sure Rosa can accompany you on later missions. Perhaps back to the Hinterlands? There is much work yet to be done there."

Tal shrugged. "Sure, sure. Whatever." He blew out a breath and tilted his head back to stare at the cobwebs lining the dark ceiling rafters. "Are we done here? I have a date at the tavern. Her name is wine, in case you want to check into her background."

Cassandra gave one of her world-famous huffs of annoyance. "Please do not overindulge yourself, Herald. We must set off tomorrow to reach Val Royeaux in time."

"We _just_ got back," Tal whined.

"No rest for the weary," Josephine quipped.

"Nor the wicked," Leliana said, smirking at the other woman.

"I'm both right now," Tal told them, grinning. He whipped around on his heel and strode for the door. "If you need me I'll be on that date I mentioned at the tavern."

* * *

It was evening before Rosa sought out her brother and found him, as she expected, at the tavern. He was bleary-eyed and stank of alcohol, with his head cradled in the crook of one elbow on the bar. The tavern burbled with a quiet evening atmosphere that kept Rosa's voice hushed when she grabbed Tal by his ear and yanked him out of his seat. "Get up, _da'isamalin."_

"Ow!" Tal yelped. "Ow! Ow! Let go!" He flailed, knocking over the wine glass. Flissa scrambled, trying to catch it but failing. The glass cracked, the sound ricocheting through the tavern and drawing everyone's stares.

"Haven't you had enough to drink already today?" Rosa scolded him as she started dragging him for the door. "Considering you started off with a hangover. Wouldn't it be nice to wake up sober for once?"

"Let go!" Tal growled through gritted teeth. "Not drunk. Fucking swear…"

He stumbled and almost went sprawling, but at the last moment Rosa caught his arm and pulled him onto his feet. Contrary to his denial Tal's every word was a confused, slurred drawl. She hooked her arm into his and hiked through the tavern door out into the gathering gloom of evening. Tal kept staggering off the path and Rosa had to steady him, muscles straining.

" _I have little time before I must return to the clan,"_ she said to him, switching to elven.

"What?" Tal croaked, staring at her with his eyes bugged out and glistening too-wet with his drunkenness.

She sighed, realizing his mind was too clogged with alcohol to follow the elven. "I have to return to the clan soon. Eliana is napping. I wanted to check in on you before I retire with the clan." She swallowed the press of anxiety that was hot on her throat. "And I need to tell you that the _shemlen_ interrogated both Revas and I today."

"What?" Tal asked, twisting in her grip to gawk at her for a second before his lips formed a big round circle. "Oh. Yeah. That. Figured it out." He hiccupped and used his free hand to cover his mouth, groaning.

They walked through the cabins until they reached his. Rosa opened the door and helped her brother inside. She got him to the bed and pushed him onto it. He groaned, covering his face and then rolling to smash his head into the pillow. _"Fenedhis._ I _hate_ my life right now, _asamalin."_

"It could be worse," she told him as she moved down to his feet and gripped his boots. She frowned at the foreign footwear and began unlacing it. "You could be dead. The people you love could be dead."

"Elgar'nan's hairy ballsack," Tal cursed. "You're just a ray of sunshine."

"I told you," Rosa muttered, frowning again as she continued to fight with the boot lacings. "The _shemlen_ spymaster, the one with the red hair, interrogated me. So no, I am not in the greatest of moods."

"She threaten you?" Tal asked, peeking at her with one eye from the pillow.

Rosa paused, considering the exchange with the spymaster that morning. She saw Solas leaving just as she entered and she could still smell his scent in the cell they brought her into. It alarmed her, but she quickly realized what had the humans' hackles up—her involvement with the Hasmal Circle's rebellion and the murders of two Templars there.

They weren't worried as much by the Knight-Commander's death as they were the other Templar. They had nothing solid to pin the Knight-Commander's death on her. But for the other Templar, Ser Curtis, who'd sexually harassed her and beaten her, they'd pegged her as a primary suspect. To trick Rogathe, who possessed her at that time into leaving her body, Rosa had to face her fear. She tricked the spirit by facing off with Ser Curtis in a dream, but little did she know her wish that he die in the dreaming had rendered him _truly_ dead in reality. Dreamers could kill sleepers in the Fade, something she had not known previously.

She hadn't felt threatened by Leliana, exactly, but the danger was there. As a mother her sense of danger and her resulting fear were heightened. The _shemlen_ might never harm Tal because they needed him for his mark. But they could imprison her clan or take Eliana from her to force her to talk if they felt she wasn't trustworthy. They also seemed to suspect Solas, oddly enough. Leliana quizzed her a few times on how well she knew the apostate. Rosa was vague in her answers, but truthful. She knew him from the Hasmal Circle. They parted ways after the Circle fell in rebellion. She didn't mention how _well_ she knew him. It seemed to be enough for Leliana. But when she asked Rosa to explain once more why she'd come to Haven and Rosa mentioned Mahanon, her bond partner and Eliana's father had died, the spymaster's brow furrowed for an instant. It was as if she sensed a lie and for the briefest moment hinted as much. Rosa didn't take the bait, but she wondered what Solas told her.

By the time Leliana let her go free, Rosa was sweating profusely and Eliana needed a nappy change.

"No," she finally answered Tal, hesitating. "But it still might come to that. I don't know for sure what she's thinking. The Seeker must have reported on me and that changed her mind. She was very friendly with me before." She grunted as she tugged Tal's boot off and tossed it toward the foyer. Switching to his next foot, Rosa worked on that one's lacings. "I came away after my first meeting with the spymaster thinking they were ready to hire me as your sobriety-nanny."

Tal snorted. "You do that for free."

"You're right," Rosa said, chuckling as she pulled off his second boot and then grimaced at the whiff she caught of his feet. "When was the last time you bathed?"

"Baths here suck," Tal told her. "It's cold."

"So not recently," Rosa concluded. "That's fine. But try to do it soon. You have to have some self respect if anyone else is going to respect you in turn."

"Thanks, Keeper," Tal grumbled and hiccupped. "Chamber pot?" he asked in a slurred drawl.

Rosa dropped to her hands and knees and grabbed out the little ceramic pot from under the bed. "I assume you're going to throw up, your worship?" she teased.

"Maybe," he said and then grimaced and burped. Sighing, he relaxed and waved away her hand holding the pot. "Nah, just a…whatever."

"I'll leave it here for you," Rosa said, setting it beside the bed and making sure the clunk of it on the wood slats was loud enough Tal would have a rough idea of its location even not looking at it.

"Too good…" Tal mumbled. "For me…" He hiccupped again and then added, "Nola."

Rosa chuckled. "Wrong woman, _da'isamalin."_

"….yeah…?" he said, phrasing it as a question.

"Yes," she said and then slowly backed away from his bed to where the candles burned on the dresser. Cupping them each in turn, she blew them out and plunged the room into darkness. In the gloom she paused, listening to the wheeze of her brother's even breaths. Her chest tightened with worry for him. She knew he was fond of drink before this but…

 _He will kill himself._

The _shemlen_ might be worried about her involvement in the death of a Templar predator who no one would miss, but she couldn't let their paranoia drive her away. Tal would drink himself into a stupor and die choking on his own vomit if this continued. The very idea of it cut her and brought stinging tears to her eyes. She sniffed, steeling her spine and pushing the emotion aside. Since becoming a mother—not just giving birth but merely carrying Eliana as well—Rosa found herself fighting tears far more often than she cared admit. She was supposed to be strong. A leader, First to clan Lavellan. People counted on her.

Tal counted on her, even if the _shemlen_ didn't know that yet. Until he could stand on his own, Rosa knew she needed to be here. When he was a boy and their father left unexpectedly, leaving Tal uneducated and un-apprenticed, Rosa took him under her wing in dreams. Now she would do the same and teach him how to be a leader.

Softly, Rosa tiptoed out of his cabin and hurried through Haven, toward the chantry. She found Leliana near the great doors, speaking in hushed voices to one of her scouts. The spymaster stopped talking when she spotted Rosa and quickly waved away the scout. Her eyes locked on Rosa and she called out, "Is something the matter?"

"Yes," Rosa told her, crossing her arms against the biting chill of the Frostback air. "It's Tal." She paused, biting her lip. "I know you don't trust me. I understand how this might look suspicious to you, but right now I don't care about that. I'll do whatever I need to prove myself trustworthy." She shook her head. "Put me through another Creator's-damned Harrowing if you want. I don't care. I am here to help my brother, your Herald." Her breath puffed out, fogging in the cold air. "And right now I need you and your people to work with me on keeping Tal away from the bottle."

Leliana eyed her with a mixture of amusement and irritation. "Did you think we hadn't tried already?" she asked with a dry laugh. She lowered her voice. "Flissa waters down his wine and ale. It does little good. He just drinks more of it."

This news silenced Rosa for a moment. Her heart hammered and her blood was cold with fear for Tal once more. "I'd like to join your Inquisition," she blurted. "To become one of the Herald's advisors. His teacher, actually."

"Teacher?" Leliana asked, cocking her head slightly. A strand of short red hair slipped out.

"Yes," Rosa said. "He doesn't know how to lead. He's terrified of the responsibility. I can help him. I'm sure of it." She hesitated an instant and then added, "I taught him magic. Our father left before he was more than a child. He knew so little. I taught him like he was my apprentice. I'll do the same again."

"I am not in the habit of turning away willing volunteers," Leliana admitted, a small twitch in her lips. "But, understand, I will continue my investigation regardless."

"Of course," Rosa said, forcing herself to smile. "I understand. But I hope you won't mind if I stay close to him and try to curtail his habit."

Leliana's smile seemed genuine now. "Of course. I wish you luck in that, Lady Lavellan." She was silent a beat and then asked, "I don't suppose you'd like to accompany him on the long journey to Val Royeaux, though. It would not be the safest venture for you, considering your little one."

Rosa nodded, frowning as she considered it. Her hand rose out of force of habit to her chest where normally she carried Eliana in a sling. Now she found the sling missing and felt naked and a spurt of irrational fear, even though she knew full well where her daughter was. "I'm not sure it would be wise for me to make the journey," she agreed. "But I fear no one else would be able to control Tal as well as I can. Or care for him." She wrung her hands anxiously and chuckled. "When he's like this I feel more like a mother to him than a sister. I mean, I just took his boots off him and put him to bed."

Leliana pinched her lips together. "It pains me to admit it, Lady Lavellan, but I think you're right. The Herald is in need of someone like you." She took a short breath. "Fortunately, by the grace of the Maker, we have you. But I must warn you. Cassandra and I will have our eyes on you until we're certain we can trust you. And should you decide to accompany him to Orlais we cannot bring you to the meeting with the Grand Clerics. The Herald must stand by himself there."

"Thank you," Rosa said somberly. "I understand."

Now Leliana smiled and it seemed genuine. She thrust out one gloved hand. "Welcome then, Lady Lavellan, to the Inquisition."

Rosa accepted her hand without hesitation. "Thank you."

* * *

 **Next Chapter**

"She's a mage," Cassandra observed, shock coloring her voice. Solas tried not to wince.

Varric chuckled. "Runs in the family, Seeker." He took a long swig of his flask. "Violet's a mage. Chuckles is a mage. Even the Herald is a mage…" He shrugged and then asked, "Is Violet's mom a mage, too? I'd bet fifty royals she is. And probably her father, too."

"I would not advise you to take that wager," Solas said, aiming the words at Cassandra and affecting a lighthearted tone. He hoped the dwarf's levity would deflect whatever thoughts were swirling inside the Seeker's mind when she saw Eliana's magic. And, indeed, Varric was right that magic ran in Eliana's family. Both Rosa's parents were also mages. She _would_ lose the bet.

* * *

Thank you everyone for reading and favoriting and following and especially for taking the time to review!

CatNapObsessed yes, I figure Cass is still in high alert mode and right now Rosa is triggering her. Unlike us she doesn't know about the Venatori and all that yet. And you're so right about the shock of Solas the mild mannered loner *gasp* in a sexual relationship?! I enjoyed making him squirm here and in every chapter I've written of this so far. There's just *so* many ways to make him uncomfortable and they're all so much fun!

Frogbutton, I'm thrilled you're loving this! And I enjoyed Wisdom too. We don't get to see Solas interact with her in life so I wanted to take a stab at it. Plus, she reminds him of who and what he is or wants to be at his core. All freedom of choice, individual first. Like I was reading this other long fic and sometimes it just makes me so mad the way they characterize Solas. And even the media now with DA4 announced they're like "Solas wants to unleash the elven gods" and I'm like ARGH NO HE DOES NOT! Like is it just me? I swear he NEVER says that. What he wants is to save the elven people by tearing down the veil. And then I could rant forever about how I also think he MUST be mortal now. Like, if they come out saying he's still immortal I am going to be angry b/c it makes some of his actions make so much less sense. Like giving the orb to Cory makes a ton of sense if he's worried about time, but if not all he has to do is wait to regain his powers so why would he do something as reckless as give the orb up unless he was insanely worried about running out of time? And his fear, too, makes me think he's mortal. None of the others worried about dying, only Solas. Anyway, sorry, ranting. I have strong opinions on Solas, obviously. LOL. not that I don't still adore some stories that cast him as immortal though.

Cookie, actually, that phrasing was there the whole time. I wrote last chapter months ago. I was actually confused at first with your review because I was like "What?" Like legit I didn't realize until you pointed it out. LOL. My fav Solas line is probably from Trespasser when he says, "I have plans" when you basically point out to him that if he tears down the veil he'll unleash the elvhen gods and he's so blase about it. Makes me shudder and go "Oh, Egg. Dammit! I love you and I hate you. Now, say _vhenan_ repeatedly until I feel better in that silky voice of yours." Seriously, the voice actor is SO Solas. Did you see a tweet from Gareth David Lloyd about how his wife was playing DAI as an elf so she could romance Solas despite his warnings to her that she would regret it? Everyone was laughing and saying how she would be the only one of us who could take comfort by turning to her hubby and saying, "Talk to me as Solas and make this right." I giggled so hard at that.

KiraChan, great to hear your vacation was awesome! I haven't been to Disney in a long time but the local amusement park in my area worked great this past September when my sister had a kidney stone and we rode the rickety wooden coaster there like 7 times to try and dislodge it. Worked, too. A week later she passed that sucker. Anyway, I digress. Solas will still take a while, but I promise you will see a very different timeline here. Eliana shakes things up and acts as a serious motivation for both Solas and Rosa.

All right, I've jabbered enough! See you all next time for some awkward attempts by Solas to be daddy elfy elf.


	5. Solas Tries to Dad

**Five**

Solas Tries to Dad

* * *

"Are you certain this is a prudent course of action?" Solas' voice came from behind her, quiet but rough in a way she recognized as disapproval.

Ashani, who Rosa had been talking to, stared off beyond her shoulder, lips pinching together. The healer folded cloth nappies, having washed them overnight. She worked without removing her look of censure from Solas and, when Rosa did not immediately turn to engage with the apostate, she resumed their previous conversation. "This should last two days without washing, but you'll want to wash as you go or it'll be a miserable time. You never know when the babe might have a gut fit from something she's gotten into."

"Thank you," Rosa said, smiling warmly at her mother-by-bonding. She took the wad of nappies and pushed them into a travel bag.

"The road to Val Royeaux is not safe," Solas protested. "You cannot take a child as young as Eliana on such an arduous journey unless you have no choice."

Rosa heaved a sigh and forced herself to ignore Solas. Ashani shot him a glare, following Rosa's lead that he was not, apparently, welcome. "Do you have any additional bottles? I thought perhaps I could let her suckle on a little water as we go. My milk may thin with stress."

Ashani nodded. "I have a few bottles, yes. I will fetch them from the aravel. But—" She lifted a finger as though to interject, "Best to eat fenugreek, spindleweed, and elf root to keep your supply up, rather than risk running low." She chuckled as she got to her feet from the furs around the hearth. "From the look of it, I'd say you're the only nursing mother in this whole village!"

With Ashani walking over to the aravel, Rosa at last scooted round to face Solas. He stood a few paces away, arms crossed confrontationally across his chest. A scowl warped his otherwise handsome features. "Rosa," he insisted. "You should not make this journey. Stay here, with Eliana."

Regarding him as coolly as she could, Rosa feigned a smile. "I'm sorry, Revas, but I believe you have forgotten your role in _my_ daughter's life."

He was red-faced but to his credit did not flinch or back down. "I apologize, Rosa, for not communicating with you previously as I'd promised. I've told you why I did not do so. But my role here is as her father."

"Her father was my bond partner, Mahanon," Rosa said, coldly. Then, feeling a stab of grief at the memory that Mahanon was gone—and guilt that she hadn't quite loved him the way she had Solas—she added, "Falon'Din guide his soul to the beyond."

Solas wrinkled his nose in distaste but had the grace not to say anything aloud except, "I am sorry for your loss." Then: "And I am sorry I was not present. But I am here now and I intend to protect and care for her as an equal partner."

Now Rosa swiftly checked around the hearth for the other members of her clan, but most of them were away hunting or foraging or trading. Ashani and Rinaya were the only ones who stayed with her to care for Eliana this morning—and to prepare her to set off for Val Royeaux. Satisfied they were relatively alone, Rosa got to her feet and approached her ex-lover, stiff-legged. In a low voice she said, "Tell me something, _Solas._ What does an old general of Mythal's know about raising a child?"

He squared his jaw, unflinching. "More than you would presume. For instance, I know infants are vulnerable to infection and illness, of which there are plenty on the road to Val Royeaux and then even more within the city itself."

Rosa narrowed her eyes at him, anger lashing her with its hot tongue. "Have you ever changed a nappy?" she challenged. "Do you know how she tells you she needs to nurse? Or when she's wet? Or when she's bored? Scared? Lonely?" She shook her head. "You don't know anything about her."

"Perhaps not," Solas hedged, stiffly. "But I know that I am capable of learning. More than that, I _wish_ to learn. I _want_ to know her. She is _my_ child as much as she is yours."

"Mahanon claimed her when you abandoned us," Rosa snapped, hearing Ashani emerge from the aravel. "He is her father."

She was about to turn her back on him when Solas' arm shot out, barring her way. Scowling, she turned to order him out of the way but the mixture of pain and anger she saw there gave her pause. He leaned closer to her and the scent of him drew up memories of lovemaking, passionate and heady—the sort of wild, wanton desire that made her careless enough to conceive Eliana with this man in the first place.

Solas whispered in elven, his accent so precise and elegant she couldn't help but feel longing coil in the pit of her belly. _"I am her father. I wish only to protect her. Please, do not keep her from me."_ He licked his lips and added, _"I was not present at her birth, but would Mahanon have known her magic? She will be strong. She will need me."_

Her throat went thick with emotion as part of her, a part of her she tried to stamp on like a cockroach, warmed with joy at this. She had not expected Solas to so firmly fight for his paternal rights. It was the sort of thing she had dreamt of while she lay awake, stroking her growing belly, wondering what had become of her child's father. As often as she proclaimed Mahanon was Eliana's father, her heart knew it wasn't true. If she'd believed Solas was coming back, that he cared and wanted to know his child…

She would have spurned Mahanon in a heartbeat. It was a shameful thing to admit, even to herself. She hated herself for it and so tried to deny that truth all the more. Solas was not Eliana's father in anything but flesh. Yet flesh mattered, because it affected magic, just as Solas said. Eliana would need him.

She sighed and, aware of Ashani nearby, replied, _"We will discuss this later."_ She knocked his arm aside and moved to the healer to take the bottles from her, smiling tiredly. "Is she still asleep in the aravel?" she asked.

"Yes," Ashani replied. "I checked her just a moment ago. Sound asleep, the sweet little thing."

"If you insist on traveling," Solas said, obstinate. "May I suggest Eliana remains here? I would be willing to remain here with her and care for her."

Ashani scoffed. "Do you plan to grow breasts so you can feed her then?"

Solas frowned, red-faced all the way to his ears as understanding dawned. "She does not yet eat solid food?"

"No," Rosa said, gentler than Ashani. Facing the healer, she strove for neutrality. "Please, mother, you must forgive his ignorance. He has lived a life devoid of very young children until now."

"Clearly," Ashani muttered, glaring in Solas' direction. Rosa fidgeted, worrying that her mother-by-bonding could still see the heat lingering between them. Was it brutally obvious? She prayed not.

"Please be gentler with him, mother," Rosa said, trying to sweet talk the older woman. "He is trying. I appreciate it." She frowned, weighing her next words carefully. Ashani still grieved, as they all did. She might not respond well to the idea of the future. "Elia will need a teacher. There is none better than this man, in terms of magic."

Ashani's look was doubtful, but she was a practical woman and did not immediately reject the idea. But the pain that flashed through her eyes still stabbed at Rosa with guilt. But finally she relented, softly admitting, "He can't be all that bad, I suppose. He clearly cares for her wellbeing."

"That is my thinking exactly," Rosa said, quietly. She turned and packed the bottles in the bag. Solas still stood nearby, implacable.

"You will not be dissuaded?" he asked, stiffly.

Rosa sighed as she straightened, rubbing her face with one hand. "To be honest," she said, dropping her volume so that none but Solas and possibly Ashani would overhear. "I don't want to do this. I _am_ concerned Elia could get sick on the road. My milk could dry up. We could be attacked. She could die." She stopped, choking at just the suggestion. Swallowing, she recomposed herself. "But I am more concerned for my brother. If I go, something bad _could_ happen to Elia. But if I don't go, I am _sure_ something bad _will_ happen to Tal." She laid a hand at her throat, feeling it bob with her emotion. "Have you seen it So—Revas? He drinks constantly. One morning we will wake up to find he's died of it. None of the _shemlen_ will care for him the way I will, day and night if I must. He won't listen to any of them, anyway. It has to be me."

Solas' lips twitched. "He may listen to me. Prior to your arrival I struggled to control his habit. I am also willing to monitor him the way you indicated."

"Then we can tag team the effort," Rosa suggested as she hefted up the large travel bag and then pushed it toward him. "Would you please bring this to the stables for me? _Ma serannas."_

Gripping the bag, Solas scowled unhappily but turned and did as she ordered. Ashani moved to Rosa's side as she stood, watching Solas walk away. The healer sighed and shook her head. "A stubborn, bullheaded man, that one."

"Yes," Rosa agreed and then, hearing a thin querulous cry from the aravel, she spun on her heel to go attend to her daughter.

* * *

For the long journey to Val Royeaux the fledgling Inquisition traveled in a protective caravan. Tal could have ridden forward, ahead of the group, but with Rosa riding in the cart with most of their supplies more often than not, he lingered back. Cassandra led in his stead. Varric and Solas became the odd men out, for varying reasons.

Varric seemed to _want_ to stay back with the supplies to make small-talk with Rosa and Tal, but he must have also found it awkward to be the intruder in the otherwise all-elf pseudo-family group. So he divided his time between riding ahead with Cassandra and mingling with Rosa and Tal.

Solas, for his part, was even more at odds with where he should be within the group. He was torn between aloof duty with Cassandra at the front and trying to make some headway with Rosa. She seemed alternatively open to his attempts to grow closer to Eliana and then rebuffed his efforts just when he got his hopes up. Tal was little better, making grand displays on more than one occasion to show he was a trusted caretaker while Solas was most definitely not. He cuddled with Eliana, carried her, played with her, changed her diapers, and told her stories whenever Rosa was taking a break—never leaving Solas an opening.

When they reached the first flatlands beyond the Frostbacks, on the third day out the caravan stopped at a sizable lake to refill their canteens and catch a few fish to subsidize their meat stocks. Rosa took advantage of the stop to give Eliana a bath. She allowed Solas to fetch water and heat it, but when it was warm she worked with Tal rather than him to actually bathe the baby.

Despite his frustration and irritation at the clear rejection, Solas remained close to watch the process. He hoped to learn through observation, like an apprentice. He tried to soothe his wounded pride by telling himself that Rosa would be a fool to thrust the infant's care at him without a learning period and that's what this was as much as a test. In the end tending to Eliana did not seem like _hard_ work, just _tedious._ There was always something more to be done.

As they settled in to camp for the night, all of Tal's inner circle shared one hearth. Fish that Varric had caught using both Bianca and a traditional fishing rod sizzled over the fire. Cassandra cleaned her armor and sharpened her sword, as she did virtually every night whether they needed the work or not. Varric did similar maintenance on Bianca to keep the crossbow's parts in good working order.

Solas tried to focus on a tome, having summoned a little veilfire for light, but everything conspired against him. First Rosa's presence distracted him as he kept catching himself staring at her across the fire. Sometimes it was just the fact she was _near_ him again that did it. Other times it was the resounding shock still rippling through him at the sight of her infant daughter. Rosa, in her turn, nursed Eliana and kept her entertained, but the baby's frequent squeals and coos and babbling routinely drew Solas' eyes back to mother and daughter.

But ultimately, with enough concentration, Solas could have ignored them. Yet they weren't the biggest distractor.

That dubious honor belonged to Tal.

Increasingly he whined about wanting a drink. First it was joking in the day. Then, as night descended and still no one would let Tal out of their sights where he might go to the supply wagon and snatch a wine bottle, he became angry.

"Where are you going?" Rosa asked when he stood up just before the fish were done cooking.

"To piss," he snapped at her. "Where else would I go, huh? You want to come watch?"

"I will join you," Solas said. He could stand to empty his bladder. Shutting his book and winking the veilfire orb out of existence he was on his feet before Tal protested.

"Forget it, Revas. I don't want a pissing party. Besides, the food's ready." Tal stomped back over to the firelight and plopped down.

Cassandra frowned at him across the fire but said nothing. Varric, meanwhile, clapped his hands and said, "Stoic's right! Let's eat!"

Solas helped dish out the food, giving hearty portions to everyone but himself. He had been collecting elf root and spindleweed most of the day, as well as the frequent edible mushrooms scattered over the forest floor so he wasn't very hungry.

Tal smacked his lips exaggeratedly. "Looks great, Varric. Oh! Hey, you have a swig of—"

"No," Rosa interjected, bouncing Eliana on her knee. "Varric doesn't have a swig of anything for you, I'm sorry." She shot a meaningful look across the fire at the dwarf. "Isn't that right?"

Varric smiled tightly and spread his beefy hands in a helpless gesture. "Fraid Violet's right, Stoic. I'm fresh out of whiskey. The Seeker took my stash before we set out." He jerked a thumb toward Cassandra. "A real killjoy, that one."

"Are you sure?" Tal growled.

"Yeah," Varric said, laughing. "I've known it since I first met her." In an aside to Cassandra, he winced and apologized. "Sorry. Please don't hit me."

"I make no promises," Cassandra told him, eyes narrowed even though her mouth quirked with humor.

"I'm not talking about Cass," Tal snapped, quickly losing his patience. "And you know it."

"He doesn't have anything to share with you," Cassandra put in firmly. "And don't call me _Cass."_

Tal glared over his steaming plate of fish. "Isn't it some kind of sin against the Maker to deny a suffering man a little wine with his dinner? Just. One. Thrice-damned. Glass?"

"I must have missed that verse in the Chant of Light," Cassandra muttered as she began to eat her own meal.

Tal cursed under his breath and then sighed, giving in for the moment. He took up his steaming plate of fish and began shoveling it into his mouth, chewing with a lackluster expression. Soon he was chasing bits of pale flesh about with his fingers and making faces like a fussy child.

The actual child in their group, Eliana, reached repeatedly for Rosa's plate. "Mamam mam," she babbled and spit. Rosa moved the plate around, avoiding her daughter's grabby fists and eating as fast as she could.

Solas watched, fascinated at the slow expressions crossing Eliana's face. Her eyes stayed glued to the food plate, pudgy hands and arms outstretched. She didn't seem to connect her inability to reach the plate with her mother's restraining hand on her chest and thought instead that if she tried hard enough she could grab _something._ The longer she went without achieving her goal, the fussier she got.

"Ahh!" she squealed in frustration. "Ma! Mah!"

"Shh," Rosa shushed her. "I'll give you a taste when I'm done, _da'len."_

"Is it safe?" Cassandra asked, also watching the scene. She seemed to view the infant as both intriguing and intimidating, like an insect she'd never seen before that was both beautiful and drew the eye irresistibly yet also might be deadly. Sometimes when Eliana started crying she bolted, as though the sound pained her. Other times she seemed not to care at all, as though she was deaf to the baby's cries.

"She could choke," Solas added.

This drew Rosa's ire as she shot him an irritable look. "I know what I'm doing, flat-ear."

"Here," Tal said and shoved his half-eaten fish at Rosa. "Elia can have mine." He made a show of stretching and then got to his feet. "Well, bedtime, mates. See you in the morning." But he kept walking instead of going to his tent, ambling nonchalantly in a direction that would take him toward the nearby woods…and the supply cart.

"Herald," Cassandra protested. "The tents are—"

"I'm going for that piss, Seeker," he called back to her, waving her away. "Don't worry."

Now Rosa cursed and got to her feet, hiking a fussy Eliana up into her arms. She stomped around the fire and walked up to Solas. "Can you watch her for a minute? I need to go keep Tal from drinking the supply cart dry of wine."

"Of course," Solas stammered as he held out his arms and received the squirming, fussy bundle. As Rosa rushed from the fire to catch up to Tal, Solas scooted back and settled Eliana into his lap. The baby whimpered, twisting to gaze at her mother. She flapped her hands and then looked to him again, her little face wrinkling as she prepared to cry in earnest.

"Oh no," Cassandra said, horror warping her features. "She's going to cry. Hurry. Do something, Revas."

Panic fluttered in the back of his head. Solas had been a teacher, a mentor in magic many times to children as young as ten or so. He had never cared for infants. He'd watched Rosa and Tal handling Eliana effortlessly for days. Now, staring at her, he was like a nug caught in a dragon's sights. Hesitantly, he started bouncing her on one knee as he had seen Rosa doing.

" _Aneth ara,"_ he tried greeting her, smiling.

"Blow raspberries on her belly," Varric suggested, laughing. "That always does it with kiddies."

Solas looked over at the dwarf, confused. "Pardon? I don't understand your meaning."

"Raspberries," Varric said and puckered his lips, blowing. He stopped after a moment, chuckling self-consciously. "You know."

Stiff with self-consciousness and his own unfamiliarity with this, Solas stared at Eliana again and saw the baby was looking at Varric, eyes wide with curiosity. Clearly Varric was onto something with that suggestion. So, as unnatural as it felt to Solas, he drew in a breath and bent over to blow a so-called "raspberry" at his daughter.

Eliana blinked up at him and then grinned wide. She flapped her chubby arms and squealed. "Mamamama mah!"

"Yes," Solas agreed, grinning at her nonsense as relief suffused him. He'd averted the crying fit. "Is that so, _da'len?"_

Eliana squirmed against his hands, reaching for his head and face. "Mah! Mamamamama! Mah! Mah! Fffffplfffth."

"Well," he said, cringing back against the wave of spittle she showered him with. "I believe I will need to wash my face again before retiring to bed."

Varric laughed. "Did she give you a spit shower?"

"Yes." He didn't break eye contact with Eliana as he dug a finger into her baby flab and tickled. Eliana wriggled and little giggles spilled out of her in fast little gasps. The sound of her laughter and the sight of her joy warmed him, thrilled him.

Then, from Cassandra, "She resembles you." Varric made a small noise as he choked off his own reaction to that comment.

Solas felt his cheeks flush hot. He cleared his throat, forcing himself to lift his eyes from Eliana to Cassandra, fighting for a polite smile. There was no sense denying the obvious. The Seeker and Varric had to both know the truth already. It was no secret considering his interrogation with Leliana. He cleared his throat and tucked Eliana closer to him protectively as she continued to squirm and flail in his lap. "That would be because she is my daughter."

"Elves move fast, huh Revas?" Varric pulled out his flask—the very one he was _not_ supposed to have—and took a swig from it.

Solas frowned and chose not to dignify that comment with a reply.

"What?" Varric asked defensively as Cassandra shot him an angry glare. Unlike Solas she _did_ choose to react to his comment.

The Seeker gave her trademark-disgusted noise and then swiveled her head to Solas. Her expression was soft with an emotion he couldn't quite interpret. Admiration? Appreciation? Empathy? Sympathy? "Revas," she said, his alias name unfamiliar on her lips through her Nevarran accent. "It is an admirable thing you are doing. I am sorry Rosa does not currently show her appreciation. Maker willing, she will someday soon."

Solas didn't know how to react to _that._ The Seeker was a strange mixture of martial duty, stoicism, short-temper, terseness…and compassion. That she gave any thought at all to his situation with Rosa was disconcerting and only made his cheeks burn hotter with embarrassment.

Rather than reply to Cassandra he returned his attention to Eliana and saw she had noticed his plate, which still had some flakes of fish meat on it. She squealed and reached for it. Solas pulled her back. "No, _da'len._ "

"Mamamama!" she protested. As she flapped her hands in frustration, Solas saw the green glow in her palms and felt the tingle of magic charge his skin.

Aware of the Seeker's eyes still on the baby, Solas hurriedly grabbed her hands in his own much larger palm and tried to dampen the clumsy display of magic with a dispelling. He clucked his tongue and tried to shush her, rocking and bouncing her. Inwardly he cursed himself for knowing so little about infants and magical manifestations. Mages in this post-Veil world as far as he knew did not typically show their power until childhood. But perhaps the Seeker would not think it unusual that a child of two mages would display power so young? Or perhaps it was as strange as he feared and would make the Seeker and Cullen and Leliana all scrutinize Eliana's parents more thoroughly.

Solas also didn't know what a manifestation of magic this young could indicate of Eliana herself. Had _he_ possessed magic this young? He would never know with his parents long dead. Yet Rosa seemed fairly unconcerned when he mentioned it to her in the dream he shared with her. And Rosa's mother yet lived. He would have to try to speak to Rosa in the Fade, ask what she knew and if she didn't have the answer he'd ask her to retrieve it from her mother.

And he had to do all of that without tipping either his ex-lover, her mother, Tal, or anyone else off that he feared Eliana might reveal herself to be _extremely_ powerful. The baby hadn't suffered the weakening Solas had from erecting the Veil and did not know to hide her power either. Solas had literal _ages_ of experience masking his own strength, from childhood onward. But in Elvhenan everyone possessed more strength than this post-Veil world. It was _extremely_ unlikely, but Eliana could be another Evanuris. Could a newborn Evanuris hide how different she was in this anti-magic world? She could accidentally draw suspicion and fear not just onto herself, but onto him as others wondered just where her enormous magical talent came from.

As usual, Solas was endangering everyone he loved. Typical.

"She's a mage," Cassandra observed, shock coloring her voice. Solas tried not to wince.

Varric chuckled. "Runs in the family, Seeker." He took a long swig of his flask. "Violet's a mage. Chuckles is a mage. Even the Herald is a mage…" He shrugged and then asked, "Is Violet's mom a mage, too? I'd bet fifty royals she is. And probably her father, too."

"I would not advise you to take that wager," Solas said, aiming the words at Cassandra and affecting a lighthearted tone. He hoped the dwarf's levity would deflect whatever thoughts were swirling inside the Seeker's mind when she saw Eliana's magic. And, indeed, Varric was right that magic ran in Eliana's family. Both Rosa's parents were also mages. She _would_ lose the bet.

Cassandra made a noise of interest in her throat and replied to Varric. "Yes, some families have a strong tendency toward magic. Hawke's father and his sister were both mages, were they not?"

"Yep," Varric answered. "Did I ever tell you about the time Hawke and I…"

As Varric drifted off into a tale about the Champion of Kirkwall, Solas relaxed and focused on Eliana again. The baby had given up on trying to get his plate and the meat on it. Now she was tugging on his wolf jawbone necklace and cooing. She was reclined in his lap and comfortable, her eyelids beginning to droop.

When Rosa returned, her arm linked through Tal's, Solas was quietly smug at the way her eyes landed on him and Eliana and lingered there. She ushered a very grumpy looking Tal into his tent and then walked around the fire toward Solas. Eliana stirred as she recognized her mother and let out a soft noise of excitement. She released Solas' necklace and lifted both hands, reaching for her mother.

"Maaam," she said.

"Thanks for watching her," Rosa said, smiling slightly.

"It was a pleasure," he told her, returning the smile. He gently shifted Eliana, lifting her so that Rosa could pick her up more easily.

"Revas is a natural," Varric put in, winking at Solas.

"Yes," Cassandra agreed but then added, "She seems to be showing signs of magic despite such a young age."

Rosa's head snapped toward the Seeker, alarm coloring her features clearly, even in the firelight. Solas swallowed, his own chest going suddenly tight at this topic. He'd hoped Cassandra would not mention it but clearly she _did_ find it unusual.

Rosa blinked away her alarm and shrugged as she adjusted Eliana in her arms. "Are you trying to say you're going to take my baby away to a Circle, Seeker?"

"No," Cassandra said, frowning. "I was merely making conversation. I was not aware one so young could even possess magic." She appeared chastened, looking away. "You are Dalish and so do not belong in a Circle. I did not mean to offend."

"The Circles might not be around much after this for all anyone knows," Varric pointed out. "So I think you can relax, Violet."

Nodding absently at them, Rosa kissed and nuzzled Eliana, making the baby giggle. "It's time for bed, _da'len."_

Solas watched mother and child retire to the same tent as Tal, as she had every night during their trek. There she would keep tabs on Tal and prevent him from sneaking away in the middle of the night for a drink. At least that was the plan. Rosa might sleep right through him leaving stealthily. Solas had wordlessly agreed to aid her by sacrificing some of his own sleep to maintain watch by the fire until about midnight when he would retire as well and they'd hope that exhaustion would keep Tal asleep rather than raiding the supply cart.

Sighing, Solas grabbed the tome up again and summoned veilfire again. His arms felt…cold. Empty. It was startling to realize he missed holding the baby. The book was a poor substitute.

"Does magic run in your family too, Chuckles?" Varric asked lightheartedly. Cassandra had returned to working over her sword and armor, scowling to herself with concentration.

"Yes," he answered simply and left it at that. He couldn't recall if he'd been truthful about that in the Hasmal Circle with Varric over a year ago or not. He hoped he had.

"Figures," Varric said and chuckled. "You _really_ would have lost that bet, Seeker."

The Seeker grunted dismissively, a not-so-subtle sign she no longer wished to discuss it. Solas hoped she'd lost interest and wasn't just contemplating how odd the extremely early display of magic was.

* * *

"Well," Tal grumbled, "that was _abso-fucking-useless."_ His muscles were twitchy and his head achy as they walked out of the square in Val Royeaux where they'd met the Chantry clerics and Lord Seeker Luscious, or whatever the fuck his name was. Grand Enchanter Fiona had met with them as well, inviting them to the Hinterlands for a meet and greet with the rebel mages that sounded far more enticing to Tal than wining and dining the Templars.

But none of it sounded as good as a drink. Now that Rosa was no longer with them—they'd left her at the inn the Inquisition rented out in its entirety—he might actually have a chance to get it. There was a little outdoor café nearby and Tal made straight for it as soon as Fiona left them.

Revas stopped him before he'd gone more than six feet. "Herald," the older elf called to him. "Perhaps we should investigate this other matter." He was referring to the arrow that'd landed in the square earlier with a message attached. They were supposed to investigate anything red in the market square for clues.

Tal shrugged as nonchalantly as he could despite the ongoing ache in his head. "I'll check the cafe for red tokens." It was a flimsy attempt at a lie, but maybe Revas wasn't invested enough in booze-blocking him. Tal didn't have the mental energy to expend coming up with a better lie, anyway. He stayed on course, marching for the outdoor café.

Unfortunately Tal quickly heard the patter of Revas' feet behind him, closing in fast. He hunched his shoulders with tension and irritation, hands clenching into fists at his sides. When he felt Revas grab his bicep to stop him, Tal jerked away from him and cursed. "Lay off."

"Herald," Revas protested as Tal continued into the shade of the café. "Please."

Ignoring him, Tal reached the Orlesian server and motioned at the man. "Yo, can I get a bottle of wine?" He used his thumb to indicate Revas lurking behind him. "He's paying for me. I'm the Herald of Andraste." He winked as the server frowned, taken aback.

"I will _not_ be paying," Revas said. "Please, Herald. Come with me and rejoin the others."

Tal snarled to himself and then, spotting a red handkerchief on the floor under one of the café's tables, he pointed to it. "Revas, why don't you go make yourself useful and collect that thing. It's red." To the bewildered server he said, "I'll pay for the wine. In fact, get me two bottles. One for me and the other for the stingy bastard behind me."

"Herald," Revas repeated, exasperated.

"Ser," the server said, eyes flicking between Tal and Revas. "This is most irregular."

Sighing irritably, Tal dug into his armor, which was really just a glorified vest, and pulled out a small coin purse. He fished into it, brow furrowing and brain fuzzy. Which coins were right for this scenario? He couldn't remember if the bronze colored ones or the silvers were worth more. Finally he pulled out one of each and slammed them onto the counter separating him from the server. "Will that cover two bottles?"

"Ser?" the server asked, head tilted slightly. His half-mask was made of silver and glinted in the sun reflecting off the floor in a way that made Tal's headache worse.

Judging by the server's expression the amount Tal offered was wrong but would easily cover two bottles. Tal waved at the coins. "Take them and bring me two or three bottles, whatever this is worth." Gesturing at his face where the dark lines of his vallaslin stood out stark on his pallid skin, he added, "I'm not from around here, so you can _totally_ take advantage of me. I don't care, just get me the wine."

The server scooped up the coins and whipped around to collect the wine bottles Tal asked for. Behind Tal, Revas heaved a long, disappointed sigh that needled and then shattered the last of Tal's patience.

Spinning round to face the older elf, Tal leveled his finger at him. _"Fenedhis._ You really are annoying, you know that? I do something nice for you, like buying a bottle of good Orlesian wine for both of us, and you're so ungrateful you huff and sigh behind my back? Unbelievable." He heard the clunk of the wine bottles behind him as the server set them down and grabbed one without even turning to look at them. "I deserve this. I _earned_ it today facing off with the Templars and the Chantry clerics and fuck-all whoever else."

As he spoke, Tal grimaced, working the cork out until it gave a dull _pop_. Revas made no comment, but his lips thinned and his eyes narrowed with obvious disapproval. The cork landed on the floor with a patter and Tal brought the open bottle to his nose to inhale the rich aroma.

"Please," Revas said again in a low voice, gritting his teeth. "It is for your own good, Herald." He paused a beat and then leaned closer as he added, "Tal."

In leaning closer Revas gripped Tal's shoulder, squeezing. Tal idly tried to shrug off the other man but then hissed with surprise as he felt magic tear through him. Alarmed, Tal staggered backward, bumping into the counter behind him. The other wine bottle rattled and clunked as it fell onto its side and began to roll toward the edge. The server gasped and lunged, grabbing up the bottle just in time.

"…the fuck?" Tal asked, snarling at Revas. He slapped at the other elf's hand and Revas coolly removed it and stepped back.

"Please, Herald," he said, motioning toward where Cassandra and Varric had come to stand just outside the café. The dwarf noticed the red scarf on the floor and pointed it out to the Seeker. He trundled ahead on his short legs, quickly plucking the red token from the floor and squinting to read the message scribbled on it.

"You three have the search for red under control," Tal muttered, shooting a glare at Revas. "Don't touch me like that again." He still felt…odd. Revas' touch had tingled his skin, flushing him hot and then cold. It passed swiftly, but the world seemed strangely bright at the edges of his vision. When he turned his head colors and shapes streaked together in a blur. He shut his eyes tight, blinking several times in the hope it would pass. It did not.

Revas dipped his head to Tal. "Then I bid you enjoy your wine, Herald." He smirked just slightly as he spun on his heel and marched away to join Cassandra and Varric.

Suspicion made Tal's heart hammer. He immediately brought the wine bottle to his lips and drew in a big gulp. The wine hit his tongue, zingy and sweet and…

Except it wasn't any of those things.

It tasted like piss mixed with halla dung.

Tal's mouth rebelled, as did his throat. He gagged, spitting the noxious fluid out onto the floor. The other patrons at the café, all snobbish Orlesians wearing masks, lifted their heads and curled their lips. Gasps echoed from the ladies about the café. Tal flushed red hot and, shaking as he tried not to retch more at the lingering aftertaste, snatched the unopened bottle from the counter and stormed out.

Fuming, he waited beside the fountain on the far side so no one from the café could stare at him. He took exploratory sips on the wine again and as before found it unpalatable. He spat as discreetly as he could into the fountain. His free hand closed into a fist. What in the void had Revas done to him?

When Cassandra, Varric, and Revas returned, Tal was ready to kill the other elf. _"What did you do to me?"_ he demanded in elven as Revas neared.

Cassandra and Varric both made faces of confusion at the foreign tongue and glanced between the two elves. They held other red tokens, plucked from various spots around the square. Tal didn't care what they'd found. Right now the only thing he could think about was skewering Revas and roasting him alive for denying him this _one simple pleasure._

Revas squared his shoulders and stared at Tal with an impassive expression. _"It was for your own good,_ lethallin."

"Fuck that," Tal snarled. "Undo it."

"No."

"I _order_ you to undo it!"

Revas' eyes narrowed and for a moment Tal had the impression of an implacable mountain standing in the other elf's place. He knew Revas wouldn't yield. The momentary insight reminded him like a slap to the face that his sister's former lover was not some wandering apostate with a penchant for the unusual the way he claimed. Tal knew enough of Elvhenan from his father that he could see the incredible similarities between Revas and Felassan. He'd long suspected Revas was an Elvhenan survivor and the sleep spell he used on Tal when they first tried to close the breach all but confirmed it. Now here was this strange spell, compounding Tal's certainty, though he knew Revas would pass it off as something he learned in the Fade from spirits or dreams or some old tome.

But then Varric interrupted, lifting both meaty hands up in a placating gesture. "Whoa, whoa. Chuckles, Stoic, what's going on?"

Tal hesitated, options spinning in his head. He could test his new weird and unwanted authority by declaring Revas had used magic on him in some sort of hostile way. He could ask Seeker Pentaghast to lock Revas in irons or tell Leliana what he suspected about Revas' hidden origins. But doing those things was far more hostile than he felt the situation warranted, which meant it could be Rogathe subtly influencing him. Did he really want to antagonize Revas when he was almost certainly Elvhen? The wealth of knowledge and raw arcane power he likely possessed made that unwise. Besides, up until Revas abandoned Rosa in the Free Marches, Tal always liked the other man.

But _damn._ He _really_ wanted that drink. This was _not_ fair!

Defiant, Tal lifted the wine bottle to his lips and took another little sip while glaring at Revas. The taste again puckered his face and made him gag involuntarily. He twisted and spat into the fountain. As Cassandra curled her lip in disgust and Varric whistled, shaking his head, Tal hawked and spat to clean out the foul taste. Snarling, Tal thrust the wine at Varric. "Tell me how that tastes to you."

Varric blinked at him, hesitating. "Stoic…?"

"Just do it, please," Tal said, thrusting the bottle out once more. The wine inside tinkled as it splashed against the glass.

Varric glanced at the Seeker and then Revas before shrugging and accepting the bottle. He took a casual swig and swallowed. A moment later he nodded, his expression indicating it was fairly flavorful. "Good vintage, Stoic. Tastes like you spent too much coin, though. Ruffles is going to skin you alive for that kind of expense."

"Frivolous," Cassandra added, frowning. "You have been warned not to drink to excess, Herald."

Tal ignored their comments and shot Revas a glowering look. _"Dispel it,"_ he ordered, using elven.

Revas shook his head once. His lips twitched slightly in one corner, likely resisting a smirking smile. "I'm sorry, Herald. I don't understand."

"Elgar'nan's hairy ballsack," he cursed. "Everyone knows you're lying there."

"Explain," Cassandra snapped, losing her patience as she looked between the two mages. "What is this about?" Before either could answer she huffed in exasperation and glanced around the marketplace. "We cannot be seen arguing like this. It is childish and unproductive—especially in public."

"Never mind," Tal growled. He stooped and picked up the unopened wine bottle, cradling it close protectively, much like Rosa did with Eliana. As he straightened he locked gazes with Revas and glowered. In elven he snarled, _"You think doing this sort of shit will get you back in my sister's bed?"_ He scoffed. _"May you learn."_

His reward was the flash of anger across Revas' face as he turned away. Tal stomped ahead, leading the rest of his gaggle of misfits toward the city gates.

* * *

 **Next Chapter**

Tal snickered, then grimaced as he tasted vomit from a far corner of his mouth. "I bet that went over great with Cassandra."

"Oh yes," Rosa grumbled. He didn't look at her but he could feel her glare. "Especially when, after she told you we'd all heard enough, you tried to seduce her."

Now Tal winced. "I did?"

"You spoke elven so only Revas and myself understood, but I think the air humping motions you made and the kisses you blew at her broke the language barrier." She heaved another longsuffering sigh. "But that wasn't my favorite part," Rosa went on angrily. "No, my favorite part was when you started accusing Revas of blood magic."

* * *

Very sorry everyone! I clean forgot to update! But now you'll get two updates pretty close together, this one and then Rosa.

CynicArchon thanks for reviewing! Leliana is being paranoid, but the turnaround happened because of Cassandra. The Seeker was in my Circle Mage story, so she's seen Solas and Rosa before and knew about the suspicious death of the Templar, which Rosa was implicated in. Cassandra wound up vouching for Rosa, which forced the Templars running Hasmal to accept the death was "natural." Now, at Haven, Cassandra sees these same three mages from Hasmal and second-guesses herself when she reports to Leliana after arriving back from the Hinterlands. This paranoia didn't happen when Rosa was Herald because it was clear there that she and Solas were definitely NOT involved. But when I play out the role reversal in my head I see a bunch of humans, stuck with a drunken Herald who doesn't know or trust himself to be a leader yet, and Rosa shows up with her shady Circle past and collusion with Solas and I think this would rouse their suspicion. With Eliana bonding Solas and Rosa right away, Leliana and Cass are seeing this elven triangle with a weak, vulnerable leader and two mages whose motives might be unconventional and murky. So their reaction was to be paranoid, yes. But Leliana I feel like wants to trust Rosa quickly, because she can see Tal needs her. Anyway, that's what went on behind the scenes last chapter.

KiraChan, thank you as always for stopping by! And yes, you called it. This chapter does have some nice familial interactions, my favorite!

Cookie, I'm so thrilled you saw that Twitter post, too! OMG I was giggling telling my hubby about it. And if he doesn't have a big part in DA4 I will eat my hat. And cry a little. Of course, maybe less would be better on our broken Solavellan hearts.

FrogButton, awwwww thank you! Like even though I'm whining about other fics and the assumption Solas is mortal there are some fics I still ADORE that have him immortal. I'll just be upset if my head-canon interpretation of his actions is wrong. Thank you as always for reviewing and I'm so sorry I forgot you in the first version I posted of this! Eek! Hopefully deleting the chapter re-uploading didn't mess it up.

Until next time, when we have some action! *gasp*


	6. Ambushed

**Six**

Ambushed

* * *

With both money and time limited to the fledgling Inquisition, Cassandra suggested their motley band head straight to the Hinterlands for the meeting with the rogue mages. Tal protested, and Rosa was somewhat inclined to agree with him, although for different reasons, but Cassandra would not be swayed. The Seeker addressed Tal's concerns about supplies and soldiers by coordinating resupply and reinforcements from Haven. That alleviated everything for him but travel weariness, which worsened by the day the longer he went without a drink.

Rosa had her own concerns about such prolonged travel, but Tal either didn't see them or ignored them. Out of a desire not to overstep her bounds and lead in her brother's stead, Rosa didn't mention them. But every day she struggled to keep a clean supply of nappies for Eliana and the baby was short tempered with naps interrupted, playtime restricted, and too little time out of her sling.

Eliana was old enough to be intensely curious about the people and things around her. To be denied the chance to reach for Cassandra's sword, the horses, and every passing soldier who came into view made her cranky. Or maybe she was just teething. Regardless, Rosa missed her mother-through-bonding and the other members of her clan who'd come with her to Haven and could have helped occupy Eliana to give her a chance to rest.

Tal was always willing to watch her, but he was as cranky as Eliana was these days and prone to snapping at her or giving her bits of food to silence her. That trick resulted in a bout of colic and gas that had Eliana squalling fitfully for a few nights, much to Rosa's quiet horror and everyone else's grumbling annoyance. After that Rosa tried to keep Eliana with her at all times to avoid another Uncle-inflicted stomach upset…but the temptation grew increasingly within her to include Solas over Tal as a caregiver and babysitter, much to her dismay.

She didn't know how she felt about her ex-lover anymore, but as Tal turned grouchy and despondent over his strange inability to consume any alcohol, Solas seemed to always find a way to be useful. First he volunteered to wash nappies and other clothing for Rosa. Then, when Eliana developed colic, he appeared with soothing herbs he made into a tea to help the baby sleep and ease her tummy. He replaced the worn leather handle about her staff and offered to mend a tear in her traveling coat, without being asked. He was almost always at her disposal and she sensed no resentment or hesitation while Tal was at times short-tempered and constantly bickering with Solas.

She knew from her brother that he believed Solas had _done_ something to him to keep him from enjoying alcohol. She wanted to support Tal and defend him against the unknown, frightening magic Tal claimed Solas used on him, but simultaneously she couldn't stop herself from being _grateful._ She could at last relax that Tal wouldn't slink off to drink himself into the void the second she let her guard down. If it wouldn't have been such a betrayal of her brother Rosa might've even thanked the Elvhen man.

Unfortunately, whatever charm Solas used on Tal didn't last.

They were just entering the hinterlands, still about three days journey from Redcliffe, having stopped for the night off to one side of the road near a sizable creek. Rosa stayed in the supply cart to rest and nurse Eliana, as she always did in the early evenings when they stopped to make camp. She was dozing, her mind flitting in and out of the Fade, touching dreamscapes spirits shaped for her, when a loud thump woke her. She inhaled sharply, tensing and reaching at once for Eliana to tuck her protectively to her body as she gazed around.

The sky was orangey with sunset as, through the canvas covering her and Eliana, she saw it was Tal who'd plopped into the cart. He held a wine bottle and a broad grin. "I beat it, _asamalin,"_ he gloated. Lifting the bottle in a mocking toast, he winked. "Revas can suck my cock."

She frowned as he lifted the wine bottle's mouth to his lips and drank a huge gulp. When he lowered the bottle he sighed deeply with satisfaction. _"Fenedhis,"_ he cursed. "I _missed_ this. Damn."

"Tal," she said in a reprimanding tone. She sat up, fidgeting as she tried not to wake Eliana. "Give that here."

Tal pulled the wine back to his chest, as protective of the alcohol as she was of her baby. "Not unless you promise you're going to help me drink it." He wrinkled his nose then, rethinking his suggestion. "Actually, maybe I'll just go get you your own bottle. How bout it?"

"No," Rosa said, low under her breath. She extended an arm out to him, motioning. "Give it here. You know you have trouble stopping."

Tal scoffed. "You're worse than my own _mamae,_ you know that?" He brought the bottle sloshing to his lips again before going on. "Not even my _mamae_ would ride my ass this hard about a little drink."

Rosa scowled. "Would you like to find out? I can take you to your mother in the dreaming and you can see just how acceptable she finds your constant drunkenness."

"I'm not drunk!" Tal snarled. "Not _constantly._ Not even close." He gestured angrily around them at the cart, the camp. "Since that bastard used blighting blood magic on me at Val Royeaux—"

"Keep your voice down," Rosa hissed, quickly looking around to see if any of the humans had overheard. Fortunately no one was within earshot. The human soldiers knew to leave the cart alone during the evenings like this because Rosa and Eliana were napping. None of them wanted to hear a cranky baby. Only Tal and Solas usually ventured close to check on her and wake her for dinner.

"It's true," Tal grumbled. "Fucker used some kind of banned magic on me." He shot her a wounded look. "Why do you keep that asshole's secrets, _asamalin?_ After what he did to you and Eliana."

As she always did, Rosa rolled her eyes and lied. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Tal scoffed again. He took a long swig of the wine bottle and then hopped out of the cart. He swayed slightly upon landing, jostling the cart as he grabbed it for stability. Sniffing, he stared off at the nearest campfire, where Cassandra and Varric were chatting with some scouts. "You still love the son of a bitch?"

"No," she said and something inside squirmed with panic, unsure if that was the truth or a lie. "But it doesn't matter what I want. That comes second to what's best for my family. That's you and Elia."

One corner of Tal's lip twitched. He didn't meet her eye, but grunted as if he found her comment interesting. After a silence that was lengthy enough to be uncomfortable, Tal tossed his head back and finished the last gulp of his wine. He held the empty bottle out in front of himself and sniffed again. "Families shouldn't keep secrets," he said, but it almost seemed more as though he spoke for himself than to her. Still, the words made Rosa bristle.

"I'm not lying."

Tal shrugged, disengaging. He stalked off to the fire to join Cassandra and Varric some distance away. Each step was a smidgen too slow and swayed. He was fast heading toward drunkenness. And after that would come shitfaced. And then blackout.

Rosa clenched her jaw and swallowed the lump of emotion in her throat. Watching Eliana sleep, she almost missed when Solas appeared alongside the cart. The Elvhen man had footsteps as light as a cat, confident and nimble and silent. He smiled slightly at her and nodded his head as he lifted a bundle of folded cloth. "This is everything," he told her.

"Thank you," she said, real gratitude flushing her as she took the nappies. They were warm like rocks under morning sunshine. Somehow Solas always managed to dry them to perfection.

"Is she still sleeping?" he asked, the small smile never leaving his lips.

Rosa nodded. "Yes. I would be too if Tal hadn't woken me up parading his renewed ability to get shitfaced."

Now Solas' expression faltered for an instant. He recovered then, brows beetling slightly. "How unfortunate." Their eyes met and the question was there, silent but undeniable. Did she want him to repeat the same trick? Solas had never admitted to her he used a strange magic on her brother, but Rosa was no fool. Nothing could have stopped Tal from indulging when he wasn't under constant guard except a powerful spell.

"I…" She licked her lips, unsure of what she wanted to say. "I don't know how to help him."

"May I be of service?" Solas asked quietly, leaning closer in conspiracy. This was tacit admission of the highest order. She should resent him for it on her brother's behalf. But…

"Perhaps later." She hesitated. "Do you know of any tricks that could work longer? Better?"

Solas' mouth quirked downward. In a quiet voice he said, "We must remove Rogathe."

Rosa lifted both brows in surprise. "You think the spirit is causing this?"

"In part," Solas said, dipping his head. "His relapse now all but confirms my suspicion." His expression warped, caught between something like guilt and nervousness. "The spirit within the Herald is at odds with him. While it is bound at present, it still influences him. Much like when a painter mixes two colors on the canvas—green and yellow become a new color: blue. Rogathe and Tal together create an altered personality and that has regrettable consequences." His features softened with memory as he went on. "The same was true for you when the spirit resided within you. As I recall, you were brash and very quick to anger. But Bravery is far more in tune with your spirit."

"Are you calling Tal a coward?" Rosa asked dryly.

"No," Solas replied quickly. "I am suggesting the spirit is simply more like you than it is like Tal." Rosa was silent, considering his point long enough that Solas changed the topic, asking, "It is regrettable that Eliana has displayed magic already, particularly around the Seeker."

Rosa blinked a moment and then nodded. Casting a glance toward the fire where Cassanda was presently shaking a finger at Varric threateningly, scolding him about something as usual, Rosa sighed. "I hope Varric's right and the Circles are no more after this. I know Cassandra agreed Elia is Dalish and doesn't belong in a Circle, but…"

"You worry for her, as any mother would," Solas murmured, his blue eyes tender. "I am concerned as well." He smiled, self-deprecatingly. "Sadly, I have no expertise in child development. I'm sorry, but I don't know whether her early display is unusual. Is there a chance the Seeker will realize she is…not an ordinary mage?"

Rosa idly and lovingly stroked her sleeping daughter's head as she answered Solas. "I don't think the Seeker or anyone else around here will jump to wondering if she's a Dreamer. They didn't suspect us in the Circle so I think Elia is safe. Dreamers are so rare I doubt it will enter their minds."

"Is the display this early unusual?" Solas repeated.

The slight note of urgency underlying the question made Rosa lift her eyes to meet Solas' gaze. She smirked after a moment. "You were really such a bachelor that you don't know?"

His cheeks went pink and he clenched his jaw, turning his head away. "I'm afraid so. Yes. I tutored children for many years, but they were all much older than Elia."

Rosa had already gathered this based on some of his interactions with her in Haven. It wasn't just magical talent in babies he didn't know about, it was everything from weaning to nappy changing to how much and how long they should sleep. It reconfirmed what she'd learned and inferred about him being a bachelor and a loner for most of his life and with no siblings or close relatives growing up to observe, either. Yet, when it was _his_ child he had plenty of interest.

She shrugged, trying to put him at ease again. "My mother said I showed magic as a baby, too. Her clan was thrilled over it because they needed another mage. Lavellan's Keeper was overjoyed, too. Deshanna says the younger they show the magic the stronger they will be and the better they can protect and serve the clan."

Oddly, this comment made Solas frown. Before she could stop herself, Rosa asked, "What?"

"Your Keeper already assesses her like livestock," he growled. "I have seen what the Dalish do with mages they have no need of. Lavellan clan will try to trade her away like chattel."

Rosa bristled. "If you think I'd let that happen you're a fool." Her hand lay protectively over her sleeping baby's back, feeling her little chest rise and fall.

"And if you have died?" Solas challenged her, eyes narrowing critically. "If you cannot protect her?" He shook his head.

Rosa recoiled and then frowned. "So that is what this is really about, isn't it?" she grumbled. "You're here to argue with me about your role in her life again, aren't you?"

Frustration and pride and pain all flashed through his features. "I am her father, Rosa," he reminded her, blankly. "How many times must I tell you I am not relinquishing that responsibility? There is nothing I need argue on the matter. It is not up for debate."

That part of her that still found him attractive wriggled with raw want, fueled by that damned maternal pragmatism that saw a father for Eliana in Solas and leapt at it wholeheartedly. But the stubborn, wounded part of her held back. He'd hurt her when he abandoned her. He deserved to be put in his place, to be denied and abandoned now in turn. Where was Solas while she vomited into the snow with morning sickness? Where was Solas when her back ached with the baby's weight? Where was Solas when the labor pains gripped her, so fierce she felt she must be dying? Where was Solas as she'd screamed and cried and sweated and bled bringing this child of his to life? He forfeited his rights to Eliana when he broke his promise to return for Rosa or at least touch her dreams.

Besides, pushing him away now would keep her from making the dangerous mistake of restarting her relationship with him.

"Eliana is _my_ daughter," Rosa snapped, mocking his earlier phrasing. "How many times must I tell you that? You exist in her life only as long as _I_ want you there."

Alarm and anger twisted his features. "Rosa, you do not understand—"

Feeling Eliana waking under her hand, Rosa motioned at Solas to silence him. She scooped up Eliana and cuddled her close, kissing the baby's cheeks. "Sweetling, did you have good dreams?"

Eliana cooed and lifted chubby hands to touch her face. Her little lips spread in a toothless smile, sleepy and innocent to her parent's arguing. Solas watched, silent over her shoulder. Then he spoke in a slightly strangled voice, "May I learn to care for her? Hold her?"

Rosa didn't look back at him as she nuzzled Eliana. Stubbornness won as she pretended not to hear him. Eventually she heard Solas' feet stomp away, his tread heavier than usual with anger. Part of her twisted with worry that she would truly manage to push him away and regret it, but she also feared…well, she wasn't certain what. Sometimes, underlying Solas' stares, Rosa sensed something…oddly desperate. As though he would abscond with Eliana if he ever got a good grip on her. As though he had designs on the baby. He, or maybe his mistress—Mythal. Hadn't her father told her Mythal liked to "collect" babies as collateral? She was as much a mother as a politician and no stranger to taking hostages.

The thought sent a shudder down Rosa's spine even as she dismissed it. That was a silly, paranoid dream of her subconscious. It was her own fear of closeness with Solas, of being hurt again, spinning bizarre reasons why she needed to keep him at bay. That was all.

She stroked Eliana's hair and hummed tunelessly for her baby, promising her wordlessly that she would always be there to care for her. And she'd never rush into trusting Solas with her daughter out of wanting a partner to help her.

* * *

Tal hung his head over the side of the supply cart and dry-heaved. His throat hurt. His eyes ached. His head throbbed. Groaning, he flopped back down over the wooden crates, squished between two large barrels of salt Josephine insisted they bring to trade to…well, he forgot who. Someone important. To impress them and forge alliances. Or something. His head hurt too much to try and remember.

Rosa sat on the other side of the cart, shaded by a bit of canvas stretched out over more barrels and crates around her. Cassandra and the soldiers arranged the spot for her so she could rest her legs whenever she tired of walking. Or needed to nurse Elia or change her or nap with her. Now her disapproving stare drilled into him, burning him like a poker from a fire.

Covering his eyes with one hand, he gritted his teeth. "Why do I keep puking?" he whined. Even to his own ears it sounded like whining.

"Because you're hung-over," Rosa told him flatly. Eliana coed and blew spit bubbles. Rosa had joined him in the supply cart to change the baby's diaper a few minutes ago and now rested with her daughter to glower at him. Tal wished she'd just leave.

"No," he grumbled. "There's nothing left in my stomach to come up." Finishing with a groan, he tried to roll over to clasp his stomach. The cart was so uncomfortable, loaded with supplies as it was. He wished Rosa would just leave so he could bed down in her little spot again.

"Why do you keep doing this to yourself, _da'isamalin?"_ she asked, her voice strained. "Do you even remember last night?"

He remembered some of it. Not all. He downed the first wine bottle so fast it might as well have been nothing but a mouthful of liquor. The next one he savored, rejoicing that the wine once more tasted the way it should instead of the foul shit-piss mixture Revas' magic made it into. He stayed as far from the other elven man as he could that night, fearing Revas would attack him again, transform his sense of taste again. He drank nonstop. Through dinner, through conversation after it, and then after retiring to his tent. Or, at least that was his plan. He didn't remember going to bed, but he woke up in the tent beside Rosa so he must have enacted his plan.

And since waking he'd been miserable. How had he forgotten about this part of it? Still, it was worth it for that first sweet taste of wine dancing over his tongue. For the bite of the alcohol in his throat. For the warmth that spread through his loins. For the way it numbed everything and made him stop worrying about the damned mark in his hand, or trying to survive this Inquisition and Herald business, or remembering his clan and his Keeper. How he'd failed them and himself and everyone around him. How he was _still_ doing that, every moment of every day.

"Yeah," he lied to Rosa. "I remember just fine."

A beat of silence drew out and then Rosa sighed, heavy with disappointment. "You don't remember. So let me tell you a few highlights." She cleared her throat, her voice dry and sarcastic. "Varric was telling one of his stories about the Champion until you cut in and started trying to regale our companions with a story of your own that _no one_ wanted to hear."

Tal groaned again but tried for levity. "You sure? I want to hear it."

Rosa snorted, not in amusement but with disgust. In a lower voice she reprimanded him, "You started rambling about how you had sloppy sex with some woman who rescued you after you fell out of a tree and broke your collarbone. And that happened right _after_ you watched a band of roving Dalish kill a bunch of Templars."

Tal snickered, then grimaced as he tasted vomit from a far corner of his mouth. "I bet that went over great with Cassandra."

"Oh yes," Rosa grumbled. He didn't look at her but he could feel her glare. "Especially when, after she told you we'd all heard enough, you tried to seduce her."

Now Tal winced. "I did?"

"You spoke elven so only Revas and me understood, but I think the air humping motions you made and the kisses you blew at her broke the language barrier." She heaved another longsuffering sigh. "But that wasn't my favorite part," Rosa went on angrily. "No, my favorite part was when you started accusing Revas of blood magic."

Alarm snapped Tal's muscles taut, making his temples throb. He grimaced with the pain but pushed it aside. Grunting, he eased himself up on one elbow and squinted through the midmorning sunshine at his sister's shaded spot in the cart. She glowered out at him, seething. His face was hot with shame. For as much as he'd grown to resent and distrust Revas lately he didn't want to get the man killed.

"Did I…" He broke off, wincing. "Did I speak in common when I did that?"

"Yes," Rosa snarled. "And well within earshot of Cassandra."

"Shit," Tal cursed. "That's not good."

"No," she agreed, still snarling. "It's not. And now Cassandra has disarmed Revas. It was only through some minor miracle that I convinced her not to cuff him and lock him away in the wagon." She jerked her chin to indicate the wagon trailing further down the line of the Inquisition caravan.

"I'm sorry," Tal mumbled, slumping as exhaustion and nausea swelled in his head. "I'll talk to her…as soon as I can walk."

"Yes," Rosa bit out. "See that you do." Switching to elven, which was slow to process through his thick mind, she added, _"You know Revas is not a blood mage beyond a handful of tiny spells. He's a Dreamer. Blood magic inhibits us."_

Tal didn't answer. His gloomy, miserable thoughts drifted as he tried not to feel queasy enough again to retch. He'd fantasized about having Revas arrested in Val Royeaux, as punishment for the spell or whatever it was the other elf used on him to keep him from drinking. Revas' move was a cheap trick, a low blow. Tal's response, however, was no better. It seemed once he was fully inebriated all the worst parts of himself came out for all to see. How much more might he have said? Would he have bragged to Cassandra and Varric and Revas about his heritage next? That was the greatest secret, aside from the siblings' possession by Rogathe both past and present.

He had to stop drinking. He knew it as clearly as he knew the sun would continue rising and eventually set in the west. Yet, he also knew he was weak. When night fell he'd long for drink again, consequences be damned. It numbed the pain and fear inside that churned in him, always. It made him forget about the Inquisition, his mark, his clan, and Nola. It made him forget that he was a constant failure and always had been—a reject among his birth clan, a disappointment in clan Manaria, and an embarrassing disgrace as the Inquisition's Herald.

It would have been so much better if he'd died in the Conclave explosion and the mark had gone to one of the other mercenaries he worked with. Maybe one of the Tal-Vashoth? Or the dwarves? Or Mahanon? Any of them would be better leaders. Any of them would be able to stop themselves from reaching for the wine bottle.

And then, suddenly, from further up in the caravan, Tal heard a harsh whinny from a startled horse. Wretched as he was, Tal didn't think anything of it until a war cry followed. Male voices shouted, guttural and thick, from either side of the road. Inquisition soldiers yelled in alarm.

Wincing, Tal tried to lift his head, blinking blearily. "What the fuck…?"

* * *

Rosa cursed and Eliana, sensing her mother's distress, whimpered. Disengaging from Eliana's needy grip, Rosa scrambled out of the canvas cover and reached for Tal. She grunted, yanking him toward the canvas as the cart jerked, jostled by the horse towing it as the mare startled, snorting and stamping. Barrels and crates shifted slightly, making Rosa more frantic and hurried as she made Tal take her daughter. "Hide here and protect her," she ordered sternly.

Hopping over the side, Rosa tossed a barrier over the cart and then herself. Her stave was tucked at the end of the cart. She snatched it up just in time to hear the massive thumping steps of an enormous man, seven feet tall or more, racing toward her. He wore furs, ragged and stained with mud and ocher colors. His skin was dusky from a life under the sun. Avvar?

Letting out a shout, Rosa flung Fade stone at him. The man had been hefting up his warhammer, ready to club her with it, but the Fade stone met his unprotected belly first. With a cry he flew backward at the force of it, falling into the ruts and mud of the road.

Up the road Rosa saw Cassandra charge at a small cluster of these wildling warriors. "For the Maker!" The Seeker collided with them, fearless and beautiful, her sword shining in the sunlight. Rosa's heart squeezed tight, longing to join the Seeker and back her up with a barrier, but she was too far away. She didn't dare leave this cart. The one thing she knew about bandit raids on the road was that they were likely after the supplies. She had to protect her brother and her daughter.

An arrow whizzed by, making Rosa's barrier crackle. She whipped to face a new enemy and saw an archer, similarly garbed as the first warrior. Spinning her stave, Rosa used chain lightning, catching the archer and another warrior beside him rushing out of the trees for the caravan. The runner fell, squelching, into the mud. The archer quivered involuntarily and dropped his bow. Gritting her teeth, Rosa flung fireballs at both downed men and turned away as they screamed with fright and pain.

Tal stared out at her from the canvas, mouth agape. He held Eliana pressed to his chest and the baby squirmed, pawing at his clothes, probably looking for the sling or a breast. Sometimes nursing was comfort as much as it was nourishment. Eliana had good instincts to be frightened, even if she didn't yet have the experience to know she'd never find a breast on her uncle. Maternal pride made Rosa flush warm, blood pumping.

Refreshing the barrier over the cart and herself, Rosa saw two more fighters running for her. She lobbed Fade stone at one and then waited for the other to come closer before she unleashed a powerful mindblast. The blow flung him back with a cry. He was slow to rise again, stunned by the spirit magic barrage. Blood streamed from his nose and the corners of his eyes. Rosa had made him bleed internally. He was already dead; he just didn't know it.

She might have overdone it a little with that mindblast, though. She shook her head, fighting back the brief dizzy spell. Her core refilled with mana—just in time for her to fling more fireballs at some warriors further down the caravan line who were cutting their way through Inquisition soldiers.

Another arrow flew past her. This one, unlike the last, was aflame. It struck the cart's barrier and fell harmlessly aside. Rosa smashed the archer with a veilstrike, then flung a fireball to finish him off.

She pivoted on one ankle to refresh the barrier on the cart and then started the gesture to renew her own—only to realize two invisible rogues had reached her. One yelped, giving himself away when she refreshed the barrier and it repelled him. The other she spotted by the way tracks formed in the mud little more than a meter from her.

"Die!" she shouted and used chain lightning. It arced, crackling as it leapt between the two rogues, knocking them from stealth. Now she saw two rogues with daggers out and wetted with blood, both dressed in nothing but fur hide pants and painted with war colors. They snarled at her, flashing white teeth as the shock left them.

The one nearest the cart recovered first and slashed at the barrier, trying to break it. Tal snarled from under the canvas, but his expression was ripe with pain. Sweat lined his brow, easy to see even in the shadow of the canvas. He scooted against the barrels near him, gripping the baby tighter. Eliana started to cry.

The sound of it was like a knife to Rosa's heart made of cold fear.

Using her staff as a fighting pike, Rosa slammed it against the rogue nearest her, knocking him aside. With him out of the way she spun the stave, using winter's grasp on the rogue near the cart. Frost formed over his skin, crackling, slowing his movement. But it wasn't enough as he twisted at the waist and managed to fling a dagger at her.

Gasping, Rosa dodged left, rolling through the mud, heedless of her surcoat. The blade missed her, landing harmlessly in the wet earth, but the other rogue she'd batted aside had recovered and moved to attack her.

Anticipating his slice at her throat, Rosa danced away, slapping him with her stave once more—but the movement cost her precious time. She'd been about to recast her barrier to turn away the rogue's knife, but his attack thwarted her plan, leaving her on the defensive. Now she used that mana for another mindblast, reaching deep and unleashing it with a slick, echoing boom of green spirit magic.

The rogue attacking her fell away, winded and stunned—probably bleeding internally, too. The other rogue, by the cart, had shaken off her frost spell. He was wounded and weakened from her attacks, but still focused on the cart. The barrier had failed. The man hopped in and Tal cursed at him, kicking even as he curled tighter, trying to protect Eliana. The rogue drew another knife that caught the sun, glinting.

"No!" Rosa screamed as she ran for the cart. Ignoring her own safety again she made the gesture and cast a barrier over Tal and Eliana. When the rogue stabbed it turned away his hand and he cried out with surprise.

Grabbing the knife the rogue had thrown earlier from the dirt, Rosa vaulted into the cart after the rogue and stabbed it into his unarmored neck. The man made a wet gasp, choking as blood spurted. Rosa hauled him backward, pushing him out of the cart.

As his body fell away, still fountaining blood, something hit Rosa's bicep. _Hard._ She gasped, thrown to the right. The momentum took her over the side. Pain streaked through her arm, but it was nothing compared to the fear still pounding through her at Tal's distressed call and Eliana's wailing cry.

She landed hard in the mud and dirt, winded and stunned. Her staff clattered out of her hands, rolling a few feet away. Her left arm _really hurt_ and, dimly, she realized there was an arrow sticking out of it. Stupefied for a moment, she didn't immediately lunge for her staff—until she saw boots made of animal hide charging at her. Another warrior, lifting a club made of animal bone, long since stained to be an ugly brown.

With her heart hammering, Rosa scrabbled over the ground, trying to reach her stave, only to realize she wouldn't make it in time. The warrior swung his blade in an arc and she realized she had no barrier—and worse, the cart had no barrier. She stretched her wounded arm for the stave while the other made the motion to cast the barrier.

Too late.

Everything went white and she knew no more.

* * *

Unarmed when the attack came, Solas was still deadly. Winter school came easily to him so he summoned a blizzard at the front of the caravan where he'd been riding as Cassandra's prisoner in all but name. The sudden freezing cold slowed or paralyzed many of the first warriors attacking the caravan. Cassandra cut easily through them and then charged out to bring the fight to the wild men still up by the trees.

Varric dismounted and used powder to go invisible. Only his crossbow bolts revealed his location as he fired away. His horse, spooked by his invisibility and the clacking of Bianca, whinnied and stamped. It ran for the trees.

Solas' gelding tossed its head, ready to do the same. Digging in his heels, Solas urged the beast on, directing it down the line of the caravan. His staff was tucked away in the wagon, locked up. He didn't need it, but it would help. And the last thing he needed was for Cassandra to become even _more_ suspicious of his powers and talents after Tal's false accusations last night. She was sure to recall that he'd summoned a blizzard without the focus of a staff already. Most mages couldn't accomplish something as spectacular as that without _some_ focus.

The gelding was fast and eager as it charged down the line of soldiers and carts. The locked wagon was near the end of the line, as was the cart Rose rode in. Rosa was a good fighter, but there were a _lot_ of bandits and they were clearly after supplies and horses. Solas ran down more than one warrior who sprang for his horse, trying to catch him. A focused veilstrike sent them flying and didn't slow or spook the horse.

Rosa's cart came into view far too slowly, despite how fast his gelding galloped for it. Fear clutched at his throat with cold hands as he saw an arrow streak out from the tree line and hit Rosa's left shoulder. _No, no, no!_

As he saw Rosa topple over the right side of the cart, Solas lobbed Fade stone up at the archer who'd shot her. It was a smaller stone without his staff to focus it, but millennia of experience let him shape it precisely into a sharp stone that, when it impacted, killed the archer on contact.

He jerked on the reins, slowing the gelding and circling round the cart. He saw Tal clutching Eliana to his chest, spattered with blood. Horror made him feel nauseous for an instant before Tal made eye contact with him and shouted, "Revas! Help Rosa!"

Unthinkingly, Solas cast a barrier over the cart as he slid off the gelding. A warrior was to the right of the cart where Rosa had fallen, swinging his bone club. Solas flung an icicle at the giant, piercing him straight through the heart. The enormous warrior fell backward and didn't rise again.

Rounding the cart, heart pounding in his throat, Solas felt dread crush his chest. Rosa lay on her right side, motionless. Blood flowed steadily from an impact wound on the left side of her head. "No," he breathed, freezing for an instant before he sprang for her, healing magic glowing gold in his palms.

But before he could lay his hands on her another warrior raced for him, roaring. Baring his teeth in rage, Solas flung a fireball at the man, more powerful than it needed to be. The man stumbled as the fire consumed him, screaming for an instant before he fell over, dead but still burning. Another warrior behind the first skidded to a stop, kicking up mud, his face ghostly white. He turned and fled rather than engage.

Tossing barriers over himself, the cart, and Rosa, Solas laid his palms onto her. The healing magic sank in and he shuddered with relief to feel she still had life within her—but for how long? Head wounds were grievous even in Elvhenan. Few things killed so brutally and were difficult to treat in flesh as well as spirit. The brain could swell, the skull trapping it within. It could bleed and rob a sharp mind of its simplest functions or memories. Or the soul might retreat deep inside, trapped and unable to surface while the body lived on as nothing more than inanimate flesh.

The swift application of strong healing magic sealed the bleeding and might ease swelling, but only time would tell.

Fortunately it seemed they would have that time. The bandits were retreating, repulsed by the Inquisition forces. The warrior who'd run from Solas was the last he saw, beyond the shouts from a few spots further down the caravan. Soon the Inquisition was alone on the road, tending to its fallen.

As tenderly as he could, Solas pulled the arrow shaft from Rosa's arm and healed the wound it left behind. There was a great deal of blood on her, but much of it did not appear to be her own. He checked for other wounds, but only her head remained. He could not close the crack in her skull yet for fear of brain swelling. Blood caked on half of her face and gummed up her hair. It was hard for him to look at and he was eager to find a damp cloth to wipe it away.

Tal joined him, weak-legged and still holding a squalling Eliana. Tears streaked down his face, running through grime and dried blood. Eliana was mostly clean, sheltered by her uncle's body. Solas reached for the infant without saying a word to Tal, laying a hand on her to check with spirit magic if she was wounded. The mana returned to him, telling him his daughter had survived physically unscathed. But she was clearly not happy.

"Thank you," Tal said, his voice dry and croaking. "If you hadn't come when you did…"

Solas didn't bother acknowledging the words. His gaze raked over Tal, seeing that he was still clearly wobbly, weak from a hangover. "Perhaps you should give her to me."

Tal winced and, after a moment of heavy silence, he nodded. He stepped closer and extended his arms out, proffering Eliana. Solas hesitated a moment and then took his daughter. Her crying slowed as she lifted her head and looked to him, less afraid than curious. But she made a face as she realized he wasn't Rosa and her crying resumed. Solas cradled her, stroking her back with one hand, trying to soothe her.

"Will Rosa make it?" Tal asked in a tiny voice.

"That remains unclear," Solas replied stiffly, not looking at the younger elf.

"What?" Tal asked, recoiling from that response. "Are you serious?"

"Brain injuries are difficult to treat or predict," Solas said matter-of-factly. He made a humming noise in his throat, trying to soothe Eliana. The baby's little breaths and her wet mouth and face nuzzled at his neck and ear and shoulder. Her grubby hands pawed at his clothes. "Shhh, _da'len,"_ he cooed.

"She'll make it," Tal said, but his voice was weak with fear and emotion. "She _has_ to…"

Solas ignored the younger man, focusing instead on calming his daughter. Eliana came around gradually, blinking as her crying softened to whimpering. Solas tried smiling at her, wiping a thumb across her cheeks gently to clean them of grit and tears. Her little brow furrowed with what seemed to be irritation and she jerked her head away in protest. "Naaaaa," she complained.

"This is my fault," Tal said then and suddenly let out a rasping sob. "If I wasn't such a _fucking loser drunk_ I'd have been able to fight with her. I'd have been able to back her up…" He covered his face with both hands, sobbing into them.

Something like guilt twined its fingers over Solas' heart, too. When he'd insisted Rosa allow him to act as Eliana's father in case she couldn't protect their child or died he hadn't wanted to drive the point home _this_ way. What if she didn't live? The mere thought made it hard for him to think or breathe. It would simplify matters if Eliana became _his_ alone, but he had no idea how to truly care for her and losing a mother was a fate he'd wish on no child, his own least of all.

Particularly because he still cared about Rosa, deeply so. If he were being honest with himself, he'd have to admit he _loved her._ What if he'd lost her so soon?

* * *

 **Next Chapter**

"If she dies," Tal said then, words wavering with emotion, "I'm going to go with her."

"Stoic," Varric protested immediately, an awkward smile on his lips that was both anxiety and grief and not humorous at all. "That's grief talking. Violet wouldn't want that."

"He's right," Cassandra said. "Do not lose hope." Her chin wrinkled with emotion. "I…I lost my brother when I was young. We were close, as you and your sister are. I was very bitter about his death for many years." She let out a sad chuckle. "Sometimes I still am. I will never stop missing him, but I also knew he would never want me to spend the rest of my life miserable. More than that, Herald, this world needs you."

* * *

Alcoholism as symptom of spirit possession, huh? Tsk-tsk, poor Tal.

Thank you Frogbutton for stopping by! Glad I got you thinking there on the whole Solas-motives in game mortal/immortal thing. They'll probably make him immortal just to cheese me off. Ugh. Great you're liking the Daddy Solas bit. Maker, I *love* it. Especially when I get to humiliate him. Is this a healthy relationship between me and Solas? Nope. I'm so abusive, haha!

Cookie, I'm so happy you liked that part! I SO love embarrassing Solas, finding things he doesn't know about and making sure everyone knows he doesn't know. I definitely feel like Solas wouldn't know anything about infants. It doesn't seem something he'd have any experience with. I seriously researched game banter for hints and the only time I got a sign he know something about kids was when he sarcastically reprimands Blackwall for how he treats new recruits. It was something to the effect of "shouting at your students at the crack of dawn is the best wat to get them to learn, definitely." So that made me think (along with how he really enjoys trying to teach you to think about spirits/demons and the Fade a different way) he might actually have a scholarly, professor sort of background. When he wasn't fighting wars and rebellions, of course. So you can expect me to toss in more "Solas doesn't know anything about babies" definitely!

I don't know if I ever mentioned it, but we've had two DnD sessions now where I've used my Talassan character, who is a wild magic type sorcerer. First time combat I exploded a goblin-dog with lightning or thunder damage "out the ass" as the DM said. It was glorious! Then we made camp, I danced naked under the moonlight with our half-elf paladin, hit on our half-drow monk dude, and then drank AWFUL booze called "unicorn blood" until I threw up everywhere. Good times!


	7. Bad Dreams and Hungry Babies

**Seven**

Bad Dreams and Hungry Babies

* * *

"What a shitty day," Varric lamented, sighing. He unscrewed his flask and took a long drink from it. Solas caught the way his brown eyes darted to Tal, checking on the young elf. To his credit, Tal didn't ask for a drink. He had sipped water at dinner and managed not to drink. Solas didn't miss the telltale shake in his hands setting in though.

"My sentiments exactly," Cassandra agreed in a snarl. "I have never liked Avvar. Leliana tells me they are kin to Andraste." She pinched her lips together. "It is hard to see much of a resemblance to the Maker's Bride."

"Is it, though?" Varric rejoined, chuckling. At her glare he lifted a palm to pacify her. "Hear me out, Seeker. Andraste conquered half the continent and came close to razing Tevinter, right? After what we saw today, is it _really_ hard to believe?"

Cassandra frowned and made a noise that was both disagreement and consideration. She didn't speak again, but she did poke at the fire where they were boiling a kettle of water for changing wound dressings.

It was now nearly twelve hours since Rosa was injured. She had not woken, which was worrying. The caravan had one healer and she agreed with Solas' earlier conclusion that it was too early to close the fracture in her skull. It was a waiting game now.

Unfortunately one thing that would not wait was Eliana. Almost exclusively breastfed still, the baby quickly became fussy with hunger. The group was a tumultuous mixture of embarrassment, pragmatism, horror, and humiliation as they faced the awkward challenge. Eliana had to eat and, although the healer suggested goat's milk and rice-flour with honey as a substitute, they had no means to feed her aside from partly exposing Rosa and helping the baby latch on. Cassandra found the task repellent, tantamount to violation of the unconscious mother. She wanted no part of it. Varric was the same, literally saying, "Whoa, count me out!"

Solas, for his part, was equal parts embarrassed and pragmatic, yielding to Tal's greater knowledge and stronger opinions. It was Tal who dismissed the idea of sending a runner to the nearest village for goat's milk. "She won't drink that shit," he argued. "And Rosa has to nurse her or her milk will dry up or it gets…sort of constipated and it'll hurt her." No one, least of all Solas, knew enough to contradict or agree with him.

So, giving in to pragmatism, Solas helped Tal get Eliana situated to nurse despite her mother's nonresponsive state. They kept a blanket over the feeding baby, to preserve modesty just as Rosa would have while awake—at least in the midst of the humans. Solas made every effort to avert his gaze out of respect. It was one thing if Rosa nursed the baby while awake, but unconscious…it did feel odd. Eliana, however, was unbothered by adult sensibilities and nursed eagerly. She needed little help other than being placed on a naked breast.

Solas had hoped Rosa would waken before Eliana grew hungry again, but they were not so lucky. He and Tal had to repeat the same process multiple times just in the evening alone. Eliana was ever-hungry. He knew before that Rosa fed Eliana often, far more frequently than she ate meals herself, but the knowledge set in anew now. If Rosa didn't survive…how could he and Tal possibly meet Eliana's nutritional needs?

Now, with those dark thoughts on his mind, Solas cleared his throat and said, "We must acquire goat's milk as the healer suggested if Rosa does not waken tonight."

Across the fire, Tal lifted his head, brow furrowing. "She isn't going to drink that piss."

"She will if she is hungry enough," Cassandra said.

Tal frowned, anger flashing. "She's going to wake up. She's tough as a high dragon."

Eliana was currently tucked in the sling Rosa so often wore, but now Solas had it. She was sleeping at present, little puffing breaths soft as duck down. Solas checked on her often, anxious about her wellbeing. He didn't know what signs Tal cued off to tell when the baby was hungry, wet, or whatever other needs she had. He needed to learn. Fast.

In case…just in case…

"We must prepare," Cassandra said, quietly. "For the child's sake, Herald."

Tal glowered at the Seeker from across the fire. His eyes glittered with tears. He jerked his head away, staring unseeingly into the dark. "It should've been me," he muttered.

"Herald," Cassandra said, her voice softening. "Do not blame yourself."

"Why not?" Tal snapped, looking back at her. "If I wasn't fucking hung-over I could have fought with her. I could have stopped that asshole Avvar from hitting her."

They were silent. No one knew what to say to that. It was true.

Solas checked on Eliana, happy for the excuse not to meet Tal's gaze for fear the other elf would see…well, resentment. If Rosa died…perhaps it was Tal's fault in no small part. Solas would have to work hard to rein in his own grief and loss to avoid putting that blame on Tal's shoulders. It was unlikely Tal would ever recover from that much shame and guilt.

"If she dies," Tal said then, words wavering with emotion, "I'm going to go with her."

"Stoic," Varric protested immediately, an awkward smile on his lips that was both anxiety and loss and not humorous at all. "That's grief talking. Violet wouldn't want that."

"He's right," Cassandra said. "Do not lose hope." Her chin wrinkled with emotion. "I…I lost my brother when I was young. We were close, as you and your sister are. I was very bitter about his death for many years." She let out a sad chuckle. "Sometimes I still am. I will never stop missing him, but I also knew he would never want me to spend the rest of my life miserable. More than that, Herald, this world needs you."

Tal covered his face with his hands, shoulders shaking. "Fuck this world, Seeker…"

Now Solas straightened his spine and took a turn trying to bolster their floundering, grief-stricken Herald. "Herald," he started, clearing his throat. "Tal. They are correct. You are needed here. Not just by the people of Thedas. But Eliana. You are her uncle. She needs you." He managed a wavering smile. "You are more a father to her than I have been. Rosa fought to save you both. Honor her wishes, _lethallin."_

Tal let out a shaking breath and didn't answer.

Into the silence, marked only by Tal's wet breathing, Cassandra said, "I have faith Rosa will recover. We all do, Herald." She closed her eyes and then began to speak in a soothing voice, repeating the Chant. "My Maker, know my heart: Take from me a life of sorrow. Lift me from a world of pain. Judge me worthy of Your endless pride. My Creator, judge me whole: Find me well within Your grace. Touch me with fire that I be cleansed. Tell me I have sung to Your approval…"

* * *

Lavellan clan was assembled around her. A large and prosperous clan, Rosa spotted young and old, men and women of all ages. Dozens of faces adorned with vallaslin stared at her. All of them frowned, repulsed as they stared at her. Arms crossed over chests, brows furrowed, and lips curling in silent snarls.

Confusion inundated Rosa for a moment. Her head swam with dizziness and pain. And then the memory leapt to her. Yes. She had sought to join this clan in the Free Marches. Solas told her they were in need of a properly aged First, and even a Second. As with many clans in the Free Marches, too few gifted children had been born in recent years.

Tal sat beside her, head bowed and hands fidgeting in his lap. He came with her from clan Manaria, escorting her and keeping her company from the threat of grief and shame that was ever at her back. Her hand lay over her abdomen, already aware of the small swell of the unborn child growing there.

Deshanna sat in front of her, scowling. The middle-aged woman clucked her tongue and shook her head. "You showed such promise, _da'len._ But this…" She lifted both hands and gestured at Rosa's middle like she was shooing away a fly. "This is a great disappointment. You shame our people. How can you expect us to take you in and care for you when you will only be adding another mouth to feed? And worse! You came from a Circle. The babe may be no elfling at all but some demon Templar get."

The clan hissed their displeasure, nodding in agreement with Deshanna. An old man spat at the ground only a few feet from her. Another woman muttered insults under her breath. "Templar fucking whore."

Rosa flinched, remembering the Templar who _had_ abused her, though he never took her by force, only groped her and beat her. Still, those hard, callous hands pinching at her breasts and ass still stung. The cruel, malicious look in his eyes returned to her, making her shake.

Yet, stubborn pride stayed in her chest, firm and powerful. She squared her shoulders and clenched her jaw as she lifted her gaze to meet Deshanna's challenging look. "My child's father was an elven mage, another prisoner in the Circle. You said I showed promise. You were proud to take me in when it was just me, a Dreamer mage. My child's father was a Dreamer, too. Your clan will not want for mages for generations to come if you allow me to join you. Magic runs strong in my lineage."

"A flat-ear's spawn," someone said and snickered mockingly.

Rosa's cheeks burned and she almost shouted at the speaker to correct them with the truth before she bit her tongue and stayed silent. She glowered at Deshanna, waiting to hear what the Keeper would say.

"A flat-ear mage or a templar," Deshanna said, shaking her head. "What difference does it make? The child will be an outcast, but there is no need for you to follow it in shame and exile." Deshanna dug into the belt at her waist, producing a pouch of herbs that she extended out to Rosa.

Rosa recoiled, feeling nauseous. The pain in her head pounded in time with her heart.

"Take these," Deshanna told her. "And I will admit you as my First. We welcome you, but no one will wish to take in templar get or flat-ear's spawn."

"You should take the herbs," Tal told her from at her side. "It's your only choice. Revas isn't coming back and without him you'll never convince this clan or anyone else."

Snarling, Rosa lashed out and knocked the pouch of herbs into the dirt. "No," she growled. "I am of the last Elvhen. Never shall I yield." She had committed herself to saving this child, unwanted as it began. Her vallaslin honored Dirthamen, a god of secrets but also one who was devoted to his brother—to family. Rosa would not cast aside that ideal just because this child was inconvenient.

The clan around her booed and hissed in reaction, but as Rosa glared back at them, the elves about her wavered and faded into shadows. Tal at her side grinned, leering. A cold wave of air radiated from him and his eyes turned black. Rosa blinked, baffled and alarmed. _What's going on…?_

And then a new scene started and she forgot the first.

* * *

In the morning, when Eliana woke them with hunger cries, Tal and Solas helped her nurse again. Solas checked Rosa's wound while the baby suckled. She had not woken, but no fever had set in. Her skin had better color and her breathing was even, albeit slow. Solas pushed her eyelids back while Tal watched silently. The pupils reacted to light but stared unseeingly.

"She is trapped deeply within," he murmured somberly. "But physically she is showing improvement."

"She needs to wake up so she can eat and drink," Tal whispered. "Or her milk will dry up." He had not tried to handle Eliana, leaving caring for her to Solas with only minor supervision and guidance. Part of that was likely guilt, but at least some of it was due to his shaking hands. The withdrawal from alcohol had begun quickly.

When the healer returned to check on their patient later that morning she helped try to feed Rosa and get some water down her. It was a dangerous process and slow work, with little reward. Ultimately she had dozens of other wounded scouts and soldiers to attend and instructed them not to try and feed or water Rosa without her. The risk of accidentally choking her and causing pneumonia was too great.

The Inquisition caravan restarted by midmorning, despite Tal and Solas' protestations that moving Rosa might be a bad idea. Cassandra made as many concessions to their concerns as she could by ordering one of the supply carts be turned into a mobile pallet. They lined the bed of the cart with canvas and bedrolls, cushioning Rosa as much as they could—especially her head. Tal and Solas took turns staying with her, holding Eliana to let the baby take comfort in her mother's presence. It also made her frequent feedings much easier.

If there was one positive in this situation for Solas it was that he learned by force very quickly how to read his daughter. Changing her diapers was soon an easy chore he could finish quickly without Tal's guidance. Some of her fussiness started to come clear to him as _hunger_ now rather than the need for a changed diaper, sleep, or entertainment.

As the sun began to drift toward the western horizon, marking more than a full twenty-four hours of unconsciousness for Rosa, Solas found more conflicting signs of both despair and hope. He saw hope in the way Rosa's skin appeared bright with life and that she lacked a fever. Her pupils still reacted to light when he checked them. The wound in her head seemed to be healing well, though it would be terribly painful if she ever woke. But for all the hope he saw, he also despaired. The fact she still had not wakened, even for an instant, was a very bad sign. Without the mind to guide it, the body would swiftly die in a mortal.

But, during his last watch as the sun set, Solas saw Rosa's eyes begin to move beneath her lids. Dreaming. He checked her pulse and found it faster than before. A tap to her cheeks and calling her name didn't rouse her, but her breathing was faster, too.

When Tal came to check up on him, looking wretched from withdrawal, Solas asked him to watch Eliana and reported his findings. "She's going to wake up then?" Tal asked, brightening slightly.

"Possibly," Solas told him, smiling tightly. "But I fear she has strayed too deep in the Fade to find her way out in her present state. A demon may have trapped her." He explained this as he stretched out flat on the cart bed alongside Rosa. He laid his clasped hands over his stomach and shut his eyes, willing sleep to come to him. Considering how fatigued he was from travel, tending Eliana, and worrying over Rosa, it didn't take long to dredge up.

"You're going to get her out?" Tal asked him. Solas was already feeling lightheaded when he heard Tal's voice.

"Yes, if I can," he replied and let himself slip through the Veil.

* * *

Whimpering cries echoed in Solas' ears before he opened his eyes. Taking in the dreamscape, Solas saw it was deep at night. The air held the crisp scent of autumn. Leaves rustled overhead in a breeze that smelled faintly of salt from the sea. Hearthfires burned low with coals and elves sat huddled around them here and there, speaking quietly in subdued voices. The aravels were arranged in a circle and Solas saw elven figures, lithe and silent, patrolling beyond the land ships.

When he turned his head, gazing sidelong at the figures, Solas saw they were made of Fade ether. Some had unclear features, generic or fuzzy. They were here to populate the scene and set the mood. Solas could feel a demon lurking nearby. _Fear._

More whimpered cries came from behind him. Solas turned and saw an aravel with a fire burning outside it much like all the others, but this one's hatch was propped open. An older woman appeared at the hatch and hustled out through it. She was unfamiliar to Solas but wore Keeper armor, marking her as likely being this clan's leader. Was this Lavellan then? Or was this Rosa's birth clan?

The Keeper hurried past him. One of the other elves sitting scattered around the various campfires stopped the Keeper, calling to her. "How is it going?" she asked.

"Poorly," the Keeper replied, sounding strained. "The child is large. It will be a difficult passage. One or the other may not make it."

Solas frowned as realization dawned. This was a memory from Eliana's birth. Yet the presence of the demon in this scene told him it may not be an accurate reflection. The demon would twist and warp the memory to induce terror in Rosa. And if Rosa hadn't yet dismissed the dream she must have been taken in by the ruse.

Despite the tremor of disquiet and discomfort—the _wrongness_ of invading this dream-memory—Solas stepped into the aravel's hatch. Inside the air was stuffy despite the open hatch. Candles had been mounted along the aravel's wooden walls, flickering. In the wavering light Solas saw Rosa's form slumped on a pallet at the far end of the aravel. A middle aged woman he recognized as Ashani, Lavellan clan's healer, crouched at Rosa's feet while an unfamiliar man sat at her right side, clutching her hand. Rosa strained, her face wrenched in agony. Her chest rose and fell, fast and erratic. Sweat gleamed on her skin and even in the poor lighting Solas could tell her color had gone gray.

Ashani felt over Rosa's distended belly and shook her head. "The child is breech. It won't come."

"What does that mean, _mamae?"_ the man at Rosa's side asked. The man had a square set to his face, blonde hair, and hazel eyes. _This must be Mahanon,_ he thought—though he knew it was far more than that too. This was the shape the fear demon chose to wear.

"I'm afraid there's little that can be done," Ashani said, choking. "The babe is unlikely to pass this way. Feet first, it might die before its head emerges."

Rosa cried out, clutching at the furs around her and grabbing at the fear demon version of Mahanon. "No," she said through panting breaths. "I'm not…giving up."

As gently as he could, Solas called her name. "Rosa."

She didn't seem to hear him over her frenzied panting. But the demon turned hazel eyes toward him, glowering yet also somehow sad. "Must you interfere, Pride?" it asked in a keening, high-pitched voice nothing like the man's voice it used moments ago.

"You are not helping her by shaping this dream," Solas told it patiently. Some demons, while seeking to possess mages, also engaged in a warped attempt to help or better them. Fear demons enjoyed exposing their quarry to some of their greatest fears, as though that would make them tougher when they endured. It may also just as likely have been a ploy to trick Rosa into agreeing to possession. She wasn't able to pierce the ruse of the dream in her present state, it seemed. The blow she took to her head in the attack had left her sense of reality weak enough that the demon could manipulate her.

"I can improve her life. I can make her strong enough to fight her greatest fears." The demon turned back to Rosa, still holding her hand. "It's all right, _vhenan._ I am with you. I will always be with you."

She nodded and the Mahanon-demon tenderly brushed her sweat-soaked hair from her forehead with his free hand. Rosa offered a wan smile, opening bleary eyes to look at him. She seemed blind to Solas, showing no reaction to his presence. She whimpered once more, shifting uncomfortably on the pallet. "It's coming again," she said and then strained, muscles in her forehead and neck snapping taut.

Ashani pushed the furs aside, exposing Rosa's bare legs and reaching between them. Solas averted his eyes, heat flushing his cheeks at this invasion of privacy. Had Rosa invited him to witness this he would have accepted. Fathers helped create life. They should be present when that life truly enters the world. Even hotheaded, coldhearted asses like Elgar'nan were present during births to support the mother. Yet now, when she was not in her right mind, it was an intrusion. He had not been invited to share in this intimate moment, though he regretted not being present for the true event.

"That's right, Pride," the fear demon said in its shrieking voice. "You are not welcome here. She would not wish to share this with the coward who left her to fend alone for herself and the child, clanless in the Free Marches."

Solas gritted his teeth and glared at the demon. It was reading his fears now, too. His fear that he was not worthy of any relationship with Rosa or Eliana, that he did not deserve them. "Change the memory to be accurate," he ordered the demon.

Rosa's cries grew into screams until she bore down again. She shook with the enormous effort and pain. The demon stared at Solas, glaring. From Ashani there was an anguished cry and a flurry of activity. She pulled a floppy form from between Rosa's legs. Rosa went limp on the pallet, exhausted.

Ashani scooted away and rested the lank, lifeless baby on the pallet. She daubed and rubbed vigorously at it with the furs. "Please, little one, fight…"

"This was not what transpired," Solas growled. "Release her from the lie."

"Ashani…" Rosa called weakly. "My baby…?"

Ashani shook her head, frantically stimulating the tiny unmoving body. In the wavering candlelight Solas saw the baby was gray-blue. His daughter's hair was plastered to her and looked too dark. Tears glittered on Ashani's lashes. "Please," she prayed. "Sylaise'enaste. Give the mother strength. Please, Mythal'enaste, save this poor babe…"

"You do not know what happened," the demon reminded him. "You were not present. You left her and the child to die."

"I did _not,"_ Solas snarled. He left them, yes. But he didn't know about Eliana. And he didn't leave Rosa to die. He made plans specifically to protect her when the Veil came down.

"But without you the child is vulnerable," the demon taunted him. "And Rosa walks unknowingly into the fire."

"Ashani," Rosa said, mustering up more strength now from somewhere. "The baby…?" The dread and pain wracking her face tore at Solas like a dragon's claws.

"Enough," he growled at the demon. He lifted a hand as he reached out and connected with the Fade. "Be gone." He waved a palm and not-Mahanon vanished, fading into nothing but ether that swiftly dissipated. In the same moment Solas willed the ether-construct of newborn Eliana to breathe. The infant sucked in a sudden strong breath and let out a piercing wail.

Ashani gasped and began to laugh and cry. "She's all right! _Da'len…"_ She grabbed at some blankets and swaddled the baby, then moved to clamp the cord. The infant's cries slowed and quieted once she was swaddled. "You have a beautiful girl," she told Rosa. "Hurry now, take her to your breast."

Rosa struggled to sit up and, without considering it, Solas stepped forward to help her, gripping one hand and sliding an arm behind her back. She was blind to his presence still, focused entirely on the newborn Ashani passed to her. Tears streamed down her cheeks and her lips trembled. She touched the baby's nose and ears reverently. A tiny little laugh left her, brittle but real. "You're so beautiful…" She let out a sob and brought the baby closer, nuzzling her. "I thought I lost you!"

Now, at long last, she turned to him, a wavering smile on her lips and each breath ragged with emotion. "Han," she said and then the smile fell away and her violet eyes widened, glittering with tears as she focused on him properly for the first time. _"Solas?"_ she asked, stunned. "You're here…?"

"Yes," he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. It may have just been a dream and perhaps nothing like the actual event, but witnessing this dream birth still moved him. Eliana was easily recognizable, albeit much smaller than the current infant. Yet she clung to her mother's loose clothing with strong fists. Her face was scrunched and her eyes shut, but Solas could still see the resemblance to himself clearly. Something inside his chest ached, wishing he had known and stayed with her for this moment. It should have been him seated beside her on this pallet in life.

"How did you get here?" she asked, croaking.

Solas shook his head. "This is a dream, _lethallan._ A memory, I suspect. Although I wish I had been here in actuality, I was not."

"This is a dream…?" she asked, turning her head around to examine the aravel. Ashani stared at mother and child, love shining in her face. The candles flickering on the walls caught the sweat on Rosa's brow and the glint of blood on the pallet from the umbilical cord. The scene was entirely lifelike, as far as Solas could tell. The smell of blood and a strange salt scent as well as sweat filled his nose. The only thing that gave this away as the Fade was the Black City outside and the underlying sensation Solas felt in the back of his mind that told him he was sleeping. With her injury, Rosa must have lost that sense.

"This is a dream, yes," Solas told her softly. "In the waking world you were injured. An Avvar warrior struck you in the head."

Rosa's eyes flicked to his with alarm. "Is Elia okay?"

Solas nodded. "Yes. Tal and I have cared for her. She is unharmed."

At his words Rosa let out a shuddering sigh of relief and clutched the dream version of newborn Eliana to her. She shut her eyes, staying motionless. The baby made little wet wheezes as she breathed.

"A fear demon had you trapped here," Solas told her.

"This doesn't feel like a dream," Rosa told him, eyes still shut. "I'm so tired. Everything hurts. But…" She lifted her head then, frowning as she brought one hand up to her temple. "You're right. My head has been pounding. Right here…"

"That is where you were injured," Solas said. "I came to free you, if I could. You must waken to eat and drink." He reached out tentatively, laying a hand on her forearm. "Your brother needs you. Eliana needs you." He pinched his lips together to keep from adding that he needed her as well. More than she knew.

She seemed to sense the unspoken words, anyway as a strange expression stole over her face, both tender and pained. "I…I think I remember something now," she started. "I pushed you away. I told you Eliana was my daughter and Han's, not yours at all. I wanted to hurt you." She frowned. "That was cruel of me. I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that."

"You have every right to be angry with me," Solas murmured. He motioned at the aravel. "I should have been present for this. I should have kept my promise to you." He clenched his jaw and averted his gaze. "It is to my shame that I did not."

"You're here now," Rosa said, smiling slightly. "And I should give you more credit for that than I have."

Solas drew in a small breath, trying not to feel the sudden swell of longing and affection in his chest. While he welcomed her words it sounded a little too much like she was preparing for the worst—that she might never waken. Better to redirect her energies to the future; to survival rather than regrets.

"Thank you," he told her. "But that is not important now. You must try to rouse yourself." His hand on her forearm squeezed reassuringly.

"I'll try," she promised. A shudder passed through her. The ether-shaped infant Eliana made a little whimpering cry as the Fade rippled around them. Rosa was reaching out, trying to connect consciously with the Fade and will herself out of it.

And then, as Solas held his breath in anxious anticipation, Rosa's dream self went blurry and transparent. The infant she'd held vanished with her. The dream washed away, collapsing as she woke.

Solas let out a long breath of relief and willed himself awake after her.

* * *

It was only a few minutes since Revas laid down on the cart bed beside Rosa when Tal saw his sister stir. His heart leapt at once into his throat and tears sprang into his eyes until he seemed to be crying a waterfall. He cuddled Eliana close and the baby whimpered, faintly understanding something was wrong but not knowing what.

Rosa groaned, her head rolling, lifting the injured temple into the air. _"Fenedhis,"_ she croaked weakly. "I feel like the Dread Wolf himself mauled my head."

Tal let out a faint laugh that turned into a sob. He reached for her hand with the arm that wasn't holding Eliana in the sling. Rosa's eyes moved sluggishly toward him until she locked gazes with him. A small, feeble smile curled her lips. _"Da'isamalin,"_ she greeted him.

Still sobbing heedlessly, Tal bent down over her, cuddling close to her uninjured side with Eliana. "I missed you," he told her, choking on his tears. "I'm sorry. I'm _so_ sorry! What happened—it was _all_ my fault!"

Rosa's only answer was a tiny hum, croaking.

Revas stirred then, sitting up promptly from his prone position. "Herald," he said, "Rosa should eat and drink now. She may not have much time awake."

"Yeah," Tal blubbered, sniffing. He sat up and gestured across the cart. "My rations bag is over there."

Revas twisted and snatched up the bag. Tugging the top open, he pulled out a bit of salted meat rations. Shuffling on his knees to be closer to Rosa, Revas extended the meat. Rosa's hand moved, grasping the meat. She sluggishly rolled her head so that her face was up rather than sideways and brought the meat strip to her mouth. Her arms were shaking.

Tal reached out and supported her forearm, holding it in position. Rosa tried to bite the meat but it was too chewy and dry. In addition, chewing made her whimper with pain as the muscles along her jaw flexed up at her injured temple. It was only a few moments before she let her head roll away and dropped the food on her chest as her wrist went limp.

Revas wore a grave expression. "Please," he entreated her. "You must endure the pain and eat."

Tal cursed under his breath and let his sister's hand fall back to her chest. "No," he grumbled. "She doesn't have to." Snatching up the meat ration, Tal aggressively tore off a chunk and began to chew vigorously. Eliana gurgled and lazily pawed at his neck and chin, wanting a piece. Tal kept the meat out of her grasp, chewing fast and hard.

Understanding dawned on Revas' face as he watched. Nodding his approval, the older man reached out and gently prodded Rosa's shoulder. "Please, try to stay awake until you have eaten."

Rosa hummed an acknowledgement. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. "How long was I…?"

"A little over twenty-four hours," Revas told her. "Another day and I believe it will be safe for us to heal the fracture. The danger of brain swelling will have passed then."

"If I don't come back again," Rosa said in a slow, dry croak. "Elia is yours. Tal will teach you. Promise you'll protect her, Solas?" Tears glittered in her lidded, sunken eyes.

Tal frowned, hearing Rosa use a different name for the other elf. Was it a nickname? A pet name they shared as lovers? He noticed Revas tensed when she used the name but he quickly wiped the reaction away.

Pushing that curiosity aside, Tal shifted Eliana in the sling so he could lean low to get his body mostly parallel with his sister. He moved his head to align with her and then pressed his mouth to hers, pushing the chewed and softened meat into her mouth. She was responsive enough that she understood what he was doing and swallowed.

Sitting back again, Tal shoved more meat in his mouth. Revas, sitting across the cart from him, wore an appreciative smile. To Rosa he said, "You have my promise, Rosa. I will always protect Eliana." He turned and found a water skin, crawling forward to help her drink from it. Rosa drank with more enthusiasm than her eating attempt, swallowing most of the water skin before Tal shifted again to push more food into her mouth.

They went back and forth like this until they had gotten a full water skin and a good meal of meat rations and bread into her. But eventually Rosa slipped back into unconsciousness, going limp and no longer wakening when Revas or Tal shook her.

"She's going to wake up again," Tal said, staring fixedly at his sister's face, willing her with everything inside him to meet his desperate expectation. "She's going to make it."

"I believe you are correct," Revas murmured, smiling softly. "She is through the worst of it."

Eliana whimpered, hungry again. Tal made a soothing noise and rocked her as he shot Revas a look across the cart. "She's eating more often, I think." He frowned, worried.

Revas, however, for his part, appeared confused. "She is?"

"Yeah," Tal said, still rocking her. "I think so, anyway. Could mean Rosa's milk is already trying to go, so she isn't getting much when she nurses."

Revas turned his head, as though sheepish. It was both irritating and amusing for Tal. This man undoubtedly had seen Rosa's breasts before, albeit in a very different light. Yet breastfeeding seemed so foreign to him that it made him uncomfortable. Humans might be able to afford that kind of attitude, but in Tal's experience elves universally could not. Breastmilk was free, which made it the baby food of choice for impoverished elves in alienages. Revas should have grown up with nursing mothers. Tal certainly had. So, how had Revas become so uncomfortable around this very natural thing?

He had a _lot_ of evidence that Revas was not some wandering apostate flat-ear and was instead an Elvhenan survivor, or the son of one. Yet neither his sister nor Revas seemed willing to give up the obvious truth. But perhaps that background explained Revas' reaction here, too.

Deciding to play a trick on Revas, or to try to trick him anyway, Tal said, "Why does Elia nursing bug you so much? Did mothers not suckle their babes in Arlathan?"

Revas' head jerked back toward Tal, eyes narrowing. He was silent, glaring for a long moment. Then he said, "I would imagine the noblewomen of Arlathan may have used wet nurses, much as human nobles now do."

"Ah." Tal nodded, smirking. "So _that's_ why you're so freaked with it."

"I am unsure of your implication," Revas said.

"Cut the shit," Tal snapped. "I know you're not Dalish or half-Dalish or some wandering apostate. You're a survivor from Elvhenan, or you were trained by one. Have to be to know the sleep spell you used on me back when I stabilized the breach. Or whatever the fuck you did to me in Val Royeaux to make it so I couldn't drink."

Revas said nothing, merely stared at him for a long moment. Then, deliberately, as Eliana started whimpering again, he cleared his throat. "She is hungry. We should help her eat."

"And you should tell me the truth," Tal retorted.

Revas ignored him, reaching for Rosa to uncover the blanket they'd put over her chest. Tal waited a moment and then pulled Eliana out of her sling. He laid her on her belly over Rosa and the baby, clever and motivated with hunger, found the exposed breast with ease.

Into the near-silence, broken only by the crackle of hearth fires from camp and the chatter of the Inquisition people going about their evening routines a short distance away, Revas sighed. Tal's heart hammered quickly with triumph as he realized the other man was giving in.

"You are not wrong about me," Revas admitted. "But I am sure you can understand that I do not wish this widely revealed. Can I rely on your secrecy?"

"Of course," Tal said, smiling genuinely. He leaned forward then, letting his smile turn a touch darker. "One condition though…"

Revas narrowed his eyes with disapproval. "Which is…?"

"Teach me," Tal said, grinning now. "I want to learn all the esoteric spells you know from the old days. I never finished training properly so I'm always looking for mentors. Rosa's great but now that she has Eliana she's so busy she rarely has time…"

Revas' expression eased with warmth. "It would be my pleasure to mentor you, Herald." He chuckled then and added, "Though in return I would also enjoy learning more about caring for Eliana. Even simple things are unknown to me. I have much to learn."

Tal lifted his accursed left hand and spat into it. "Let's shake on it." He extended it out to Revas, waggling his eyebrows.

Revas hesitated, disgust curling his lip. "Perhaps we might use a less barbaric—"

"I'm Dalish," Tal interrupted him. "Not Elvhen." _Well,_ he corrected internally, _I'm half-Dalish anyway, but you don't need to know that._ "That means I like roughing it. All the dirt, sweat, blood, and spit you can stand."

Revas heaved a longsuffering sigh. "I seem to recall Rosa giving me a similar admonishment. Something about how fun wrestling in a mud hollow was."

"Oh," Tal said, drawling out the single word with exaggerated pleasure. "Fuck yeah. Mud hollow wrestling is the best. You gotta try it sometime." He motioned with his spitty hand. "Now, are we shaking on this deal or not?"

Revas grimaced but started to reach for Tal to shake his hand—until Tal stopped him. "Ah-ah. You need to spit in your palm first."

"No," Revas growled.

Tal laughed. "Mythal's tits," he whined. "You are _no_ fun." Extending his hand again, he said, "Fine. No spit shake for you. But I'm still doing the right thing. The spit lets you know how much I seriously _honor_ this agreement, Revas." _Not to mention it's way too fun to make you squirm._ He tried to keep himself from giving that away with an obvious smirk. "You're hurting my feelings not swapping spit with me. This is _sacred_ spit, man. It _means_ something. Have a little respect."

Revas wasn't buying it judging from the ongoing sneer of disgust. Still, he clasped Tal's hand with his own. They interwove their fingers together. Tal squeezed hard before letting go. He grinned mischievously as he saw Revas quickly wipe off his palm, still scowling with revulsion.

"Seriously," he said, shaking his head. "It's spit. That's nothing. Just wait until Elia starts burping up her bits all the time or has a real blowout of the number two variety."

Revas let out another sigh but said nothing.

* * *

 **Next Chapter**

The man pivoted, noticing their arrival and…he was _golden_ , with a manicured mustache and clean hair and skin and clothes. Tal immediately felt himself flush hot with attraction—but also embarrassment. He was fully aware he must look like halla shit compared to this human. The last time he saw his reflection he still looked haggard from his last hangover mere days ago and not to mention the gut-wrenching worry and guilt over Rosa. His skin must look waxy and drawn beside this flawless specimen. And his hair might as well be a rat's nest. Sure, it was clean…ish…but nothing like this guy's.

"Ah good," the man said, smiling at them, a glimmer in his brown eyes. "You're finally here. Now, help me close this, would you?"

* * *

From almost the very start of this story I had this chapter in mind of Solas rescuing a lost and confused Rosa from nightmares, particularly one about Elia being stillborn. I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Partly I wanted to give Solas a glimpse of what Rosa went through and give him a chance to express his guilt that he wasn't there. But also this tied in so well with Rosa's refusal to yield parental rights to Solas. And it lets Solas get full access to Elia so he can prove himself.

And, of course, I got to make Solas squirm with the reality of breastfeeding. He's utterly clueless about all things baby, but he wants to learn. So he will. Solas' struggle to "dad" is going to make a U turn because Rosa's attitude has dramatically changed after this. And let's be honest, for a guy named Pride, legitimacy is important to his ego. Having Rosa not acknowledge him as Elia's father has been sticking in his craw.

Thank you to everyone who read and favorited, but a huge thanks to everyone who took the time to review!

CynicArchon, Tal isn't really inspiring right now, no. He's not meant to be, but as he is the one with the Anchor, he's what Thedas is stuck with. Right now I figure Cassandra is actually the leader of the Inquisition. Alcoholism is a disease and I can't just have Tal switch off completely, short of some tricks from magic ala Solas. Tal flirted with alcoholism in Rosa Stands Tall, but there he didn't have all this responsibility foisted on him. Here he does, and he's used alcohol too often to run away from it. Now he has to dig himself out of the addiction.

Cookie, awwww thank you! Yes, I think way too much about the characters of this game, especially Solas. And embarrassment will continue *evil laughter*

Frogbutton, thank you for reviewing! Yes, Rosa was very motivated to kick ass last chapter! LOL. Her baby was at stake, as was her brother, who is also sometimes her baby these days. You know what they say about messing with mothers who have babies to protect! Those Avvar never knew what hit them!


	8. Romance is in the Air

**Eight**

Romance Is In The Air

* * *

"This could be a trap, Herald," Cassandra cautioned him in that usual grave mom-voice she used on Tal.

"Everything's a trap, _mamae,"_ Tal replied with a snort. He enjoyed the way she wrinkled her face at him in response. They'd only known each other a few months, but she'd learned quickly that when he called her _mamae_ it meant _mother._ Or, as he liked to translate it to her in an exaggerated whiny voice: _mooooommmmy._ It was more embarrassing that way and irked Cassandra more, which was satisfying because it sometimes drew that disgusted noise she made in her throat.

The Seeker huffed while Varric laughed at her reaction, mirroring Tal's own humor. Creators, he adored that dwarf.

"We should be on our guard," added the Warden they picked up the previous day in some cabin by a nice lake, which happened to be dotted with spindleweed. Tal's mouth watered thinking about how Rosa was probably showing the scouts how to prepare it back at camp. Assuming she was up and fully functioning the way Revas seemed to think she would be since he healed her skull fracture. He stayed behind to watch over her and help with Eliana while Tal took the Seeker, their resident dwarf, and their new hairy-faced Warden out to meet the rebel mages in Redcliffe.

It wasn't just the promise of well-cooked spindleweed back at camp that made him eager to get back there, though. Revas had cast another strange spell on him, something that would ward off the effects of withdrawal. This time Revas did it because Tal asked him for it. But after two days it was beginning to wear off. Tal found himself more tired than usual on their ride out to the village and he could feel a headache trying to set in. They needed to finish this up and get back to the camp by Lake Luthias before Tal gave in to the growing desire to find the nearest wine bottle and down it.

That and Tal wanted to try and steer Rosa away from Revas. Sure, Tal _liked_ the guy well enough now, but since he helped heal her and draw her out of the Fade after the head injury Revas seemed fixated on Rosa and she on him in turn. It was starting to feel decidedly not platonic. Tal wanted to play third wheel a while, as much as possible, until the brush with death wore off and the rekindled sparks cooled.

…But was that really _him_ plotting that? Tal wasn't entirely certain. Sure, Revas was an ass who abandoned Rosa when she was pregnant despite promising to return to her or at least contact her in the Fade. But he also hadn't known about the pregnancy and he seemed so regretful and invested now…

 _No,_ a hard, rough spot inside him admonished, stubborn to the core. _She's making a mistake. I have to keep them apart._

"Fucking dammit," Tal cursed. Definitely Rogathe, then.

His companions stared at him, especially the Warden, baffled at the outburst. As far as they were concerned he was reacting to Blackwall's comment, not an internal realization that he was actually feeling Rogathe's influence. He blushed under their stares and cleared his throat as he flashed a sheepish grin. "Sorry. I was just remembering I forgot to sacrifice a hare to Andruil for good luck this morning."

Cassandra huffed again at him, rolling her eyes at his reminder that he wasn't Andrastian.

 _That's right, Cass,_ he thought. _The Herald. Of Andraste. Isn't Andrastian._ What an embarrassment.

It continued to shock new recruits like the Warden that the man—or boy as some snickered behind Tal's back—the Inquisition held aloft as divinely chosen by heaven didn't actually _believe_ the tales people repeated about him. Well, not the divinely chosen ones, anyway. Tal believed all the stories about his drinking or his uncouthness as a Dalish easily enough. He did so delight, however, in annoying Cassandra by reminding her he was a filthy elven heathen. She knew his comment was meant to rankle her, too, which was the best part. She knew he didn't perform any rituals to the elven gods, just cursed colorfully with their names.

But Blackwall didn't yet know he was full of shit and blanched. His lips pressed together behind his beard and he averted his eyes. As the bearded man scratched at his neck, Tal guessed he must be struggling to say something respectful that wouldn't make Tal dump his ass back at Lake Luthias. What he finally came up with was a stilted, "Oh…?"

"Stoic's pulling your leg, Hero," Varric said, smirking. "The only thing I've ever seen the Herald do with hares is turn them over a spit and eat them."

"Oh," the Warden said again clearing his throat. He stroked his beard idly. "Right." He managed to chuckle, searching Tal's face as he did, checking his reaction.

Tal feigned a frown, aiming it at both Blackwall and Varric. "Do you really want to bring on Andruil's wrath, Varric? She makes Blights look like fun." He motioned up the hill toward the Chantry where the note they'd received in secret from Magister Alexius' son Felix had told them to go. "If we don't hurry back to Lake Luthias and sacrifice a hare this is _sure_ to be a trap."

Cassandra rolled her eyes again. "Ugh," she said, fonally making that disgusted noise Tal had been waiting to hear all day. "Let's just get in there already." Turning on her heel, the Seeker marched up the hill, past a variety of Redcliffe natives, Chantry folk, and rebel mages who looked more like refugees than fighters.

Tal started after her, grinning and winking at the Warden as he passed. He was rather attractive for a human, with blue eyes and that luxuriously deep voice. Tal normally preferred less hair on his partners, but maybe he'd make an exception for the Warden, if he was game. Blackwall certainly appeared well-groomed. That was more important than how much or how little facial and body hair he possessed.

Void take him, he needed a roll after the stress of worrying over Rosa. Relief always made him horny and he liked the Warden. The man seemed to have a good heart, and a soft spot for kids, as revealed when he immediately took an interest in Eliana, calling her adorable.

 _Don't think about Nola,_ he cursed himself and winced. Too late. But he was good at compartmentalizing, forcing those thoughts aside. Probably the reason he kept doing that was because of Rogathe, anyway. Yeah. That had to be it.

Cassandra pushed open the door to the Chantry, ignoring warning signs on it that mentioned a rift. Tal didn't even need to read them as he felt a painful prickle start up in his left palm. Any amorous thoughts fled with the pain and his shoulders sagged as he felt his headache pinching his temples again. _"Fenedhis,"_ he grumbled. "If this is the trap it's really shitty. I mean they could _at least_ try to surprise me."

"You mean the surprise creepy magisters didn't surprise you, Stoic?" Varric asked, laughing. The Warden, following last in line, actually got this joke and laughed genuinely. It was a nice sound, distracting Tal from his headache again.

"Nah," he said over his shoulder as he slipped through the door Cassandra held open. "Takes more than magisters to— _oh…"_

He stumbled in the doorway as he took in the dingy, dark Chantry, lit by the eerie green rift glowing in the rafters. Below it a couple shades slithered in their strange undulating way and a man dressed in fine fabric—was that _silk?—_ twirled his staff, slamming one demon across the back with it. The shade dissolved into green ether and streamed back to the rift. The second shade groaned and moved to slap the elegant mage fighting it but the man moved easily away and sent a little gout of flame, well aimed, to char it into ash.

The man pivoted, noticing their arrival and…he was _golden_ , with a manicured mustache and clean hair and skin and clothes. Tal immediately felt himself flush hot with attraction—but also embarrassment. He was fully aware he must look like halla shit compared to this human. The last time he saw his reflection he still looked haggard from his hangover mere days ago and not to mention the gut-wrenching worry and guilt over Rosa. His skin must look waxy and drawn beside this flawless specimen. And his hair might as well be a rat's nest. Sure, it was clean…ish…but nothing like this guy's.

"Ah good," the man said, smiling at them, a glimmer in his brown eyes. "You're finally here. Now, help me close this, would you?"

Tal realized dimly that his left hand was crackling with green magic as it always did around rifts. He was so focused on this human he hadn't really felt the pain. And his headache seemed to have vanished for the moment with this distraction, too.

 _Don't think about Nola._ He grimaced as the pain in his hand came sharp again, as did the ache at his temples. He shook out his palm casually as Cassandra, Blackwall, and Varric ran forward to engage the next wave of demons manifesting. The golden man shot him a _look_ for a moment and then spun back to the fray, tossing barriers over everyone with a stylish flourish of one arm and hand.

Tal decided that he owed Varric an apology. This was officially the most surprising trap he'd ever encountered, and _very_ effective. Because if this guy turned out to be a baddie, Tal was going to be _really_ sad about it.

* * *

"Varric," Tal said as the quartet walked along the road leading back to the crossroads village, "I owe you an apology."

The dwarf laughed. "Why? What did you do this time?"

Tal winced at the reminder of his last apology, which had been a lot more serious than this present one, which was entirely facetious. His last apology was a red faced, sheepish humiliation fest as he admitted he had stolen Varric's flask and downed it the night after Rosa first regained consciousness. It wasn't as if the dwarf—and everyone else—didn't already know who stole the flask and drank the whisky inside it. But Tal forced himself to own up to it to be responsible and try to get control of the drinking. It was a moment of weakness when he wanted to celebrate the relief that came with the certainty that Rosa was going to live. It was just supposed to be a taste, a short sip. Instead he drained the flask without conscious thought and saw Revas across the camp watching him with naked disapproval.

 _Creators dammit._

So much for control.

"Nothing," he said, spirits dampened now. He forced himself to carry on anyway. "Actually, I wanted to apologize for accidentally lying earlier. See, I said I wasn't surprised by the creepy magisters who stole the mages out from under us. Nah, I could have seen that one coming. I don't know how, but yeah. I've seen stranger things than that before. Like, have you ever seen two bogfishers fucking? That shit's hilarious."

Blackwall burst out laughing in front of him, as did Varric behind. Cassandra, as was usual, ignored them from her position at the lead. Two out of three. Not bad. Getting Cassandra to laugh would have been truly too much to ask of the gods, of course.

"But anyway," Tal went on after the laughter stopped. "What I _didn't_ see coming was the hottie betraying his evil mentor, and the son betraying his father…oh, and _bloody thrice-damned time magic."_

"Yeah," Varric agreed. "I have to hand it to them. That _was_ pretty original. And I know good hooks when I hear them, no matter what my editor says."

"We have to help these mages," Tal said firmly. "If what Dorian says is true, and I think it is because Felix was saying the same thing, I mean can you imagine? They rebelled to be free from the Circles and then the Conclave blows up and the Tevinters roll in and—"

"We must consult with Leliana and Commander Cullen before we make any choices," Cassandra interrupted. "We must not be too hasty."

Tal rolled his eyes. "You just want me to go to the Templars. I'm telling you, I've already made up my mind. The mages have been way more open to us. Sylaise's tits, Grand Enchanter Fiona actually came to us in Val Royeaux to invite us to—"

" _Did_ she?" Cassandra challenged, turning at the waist to look back as she walked, scaling the hill ahead. "She had no memory of us when we met her here. She was not expecting us."

"Well," Tal said, rolling his shoulders in their sockets as he tried to puzzle out this strangeness. "It was either a really close decoy or it was her and she somehow forgot? Because time magic?"

"I don't know if that's how it works," Blackwall said, brow furrowed with confusion. "If this magister Alexius reworked time it couldn't have been her you saw. Right?" Then he scoffed. "Never mind. I've never been much of a scholar."

"No," Varric said, sounding intrigued. "I think you're onto something, Hero. Maybe we _didn't_ see the Grand Enchanter there after all. Someone clearly wanted to get us here, though. Maybe the magister sent a decoy to meet us?"

"But Fiona seemed to remember us just before Alexius butted in," Tal protested. "I'm sure it was her we saw. The time magic just fucked with her memory."

"Maybe it's a localized phenomenon?" Varric mused, puffing as he hiked up the hill behind them on his much shorter legs. "That guy in the fancy duds, what was his name?"

"Dorian," Tal supplied at once, envisioning the aforementioned man and his "fancy duds" with a shiver.

"Yeah, that guy. He said the time rifts were only here in Redcliffe right now, but they'd start spreading and getting worse. Maybe it _was_ Fiona in Val Royeaux, but once she got back to Redcliffe the time magic messed up her memory like Stoic said?"

"That's as good a theory as any," Blackwall said. "But let's talk about something else. This time magic business scares the shit out of me."

"But why would we still remember her then?" Tal interjected, still wrestling with the possibilities. "We've been exposed to the time magic now. Why wouldn't our memories get erased like Fiona's to match the new reality as far as Redcliffe goes?"

"Maybe we haven't spent long enough in it?" Varric suggested. "Or maybe it's like dropping a pebble in a pond and the ripples haven't gotten to us yet?"

"Does it really matter?" Cassandra asked, exasperated.

"No," Tal replied with exaggerated sullenness. "But I _want_ to know. I mean, aren't you the least bit curious?"

"No," Cassandra growled. "I'd rather stay as far away from this place as possible. The magister's invitation is clearly a trap and we cannot afford to take such risks. Besides, this type of magic is terrifying. No one should have power over time."

"Yeah," Varric agreed. "But they do have it. You're really comfortable sitting back and doing nothing, Seeker? I don't buy that."

"Me neither," the Warden put in. "The dwarf's right."

"That's why I'm with Stoic on this one," Varri continued. "We have to help these mages. Because the way I see it our only other option is letting Alexius tear a hole in time like Darian—"

"Dorian," Tal corrected automatically.

"Yeah, like Dorian said," Varric finished. "And the hole in the sky is bad enough."

"We must consult with the others first," Cassandra insisted. "I don't want to make any rash decisions."

"We can do a poll with Violet and Chuckles when we get back," Varric suggested brightly. Then he added, "Ten royals says they both agree with Stoic."

"Is anyone really going to bet otherwise?" Tal asked, laughing.

"You never know," Varric returned, also laughing. "Seeker? Want to put your money where your mouth is?"

Cassandra made her trademark noise of disgust and Tal grinned despite his withdrawal headache. This definitely qualified as a great day. Even if he hadn't met the very attractive and suave and _brave_ Dorian he would still consider it a win because he managed to make Cassandra groan so many times. But Dorian was the icing on the cake.

And now it was time to return to camp and eat spindleweed from Lake Luthias. A perfect day—or as close as he could get while still possessed by Rogathe and still bearing the mark and the terrifying responsibility that came with it.

 _Don't think about any of that,_ he ordered himself and then heaved a sigh. Too late, as usual. Damnable Rogathe influencing him. What a killjoy.

* * *

" _Time magic?"_ Solas asked, incredulous. That was…unheard of, even before the Veil. "Surely you must be mistaken, _falon?"_

"Nope," Tal answered around a full mouth of fried spindleweed stems. He slurped as he sucked in more of the stems on his plate like a bunch of noodles. Chewing now, he shut his eyes with pleasure. "Oh, Void take me. You make the _best_ spindleweed, _asamalin."_

Rosa smiled at him from her spot at Solas' side. "You know you can make it just as well. You've seen me make it often enough. And I'm sure you watched your mother prepare it."

"Not recently," Tal protested. "And I just burned it when I tried to make it as a kid. Got impatient and used my own mage fire. _Mamae_ was a little irritated with me and my Keeper took a switch to my ass. Never wanted to make it myself after that." He turned toward the Grey Warden sitting beside him and motioned at his plate. "Wanna try a bite?"

"No, thank you, Herald," the Warden replied. "I prefer to wait for the ram meat. I'm something of a carnivore, actually."

"Me too," Tal answered quickly, fishing about his plate with his fork. "But even wolves chew on grass sometimes. Didn't your _mamae_ ever tell you vegetables are good for you?"

"My what?" the Warden asked, scratching his head.

"Your mom," Tal corrected, but smirked as, across camp, Cassandra huffed. She seemed to regard that elven word as a trigger. Tal was keen on annoying her every second of every day when he was in a good mood. And after meeting the mages in Redcliffe he seemed to be in a very good mood indeed, though Solas saw little to warrant it based on the dire, bizarre news the group returned with.

Blackwall grunted out a laugh. "She did, actually. Can't say I was any good at listening, though."

"More spindleweed for me, then," Tal said and returned with vigor to eating.

Eliana slurped on her own bit of spindleweed in Solas' lap, gumming it as a teething toy. She was cutting some of her first teeth and had been periodically fussy and cranky as a result. Spindleweed was a good treat for her to work on, firm with no chance of choking.

Solas checked on her unthinkingly while his mind worked over the idea of time magic just like his daughter gumming the spindleweed. If he could master such magic, and he had little doubt that he could, he might be able to return to a time before the Veil. He might be able to stop his younger self and save Elvhenan…but at what cost? The sight of Eliana's concentrated expression as she slobbered and sucked on the spindleweed reminded him that he would lose her and Rosa and Tal if he were to enact such a plan. He would save thousands, perhaps millions of lives— _Elvhen_ lives—but he'd also be obviating countless others: human, elven, dwarven, and Qunari. None of the people around him now would exist in that altered timeline.

The thought stabbed him with pain, even as a detached pragmatic part of him knew it was a better solution than the one he currently embarked on. Altering the events of the past would destroy this world painlessly by preventing it entirely. But there were so many possible problems with the scenario, too. His younger self might not listen. And what other solution might he have to the problem of the Evanuris and the Forgotten Ones' endless war? Whatever it was, it might prove even worse than the Veil.

"Revas?" Rosa asked from his side.

Solas snapped to attention, smiling at her and making a faint hum in his throat to acknowledge her. "Yes?"

"Would you care to join me on a short excursion to Lake Luthias to catch a few fish to go with dinner?" Rosa was already loading her stave onto her back as she asked the question. When that was finished she produced a finely knotted fishing net, carefully folded, and began trying to stuff it into a small pouch at her waist.

"I'd be happy to—"

Tal interrupted him from across the fire, speaking around a full mouth. "Let me go with you, _asamalin."_

Rosa blinked a moment, surprised. Solas, however, frowned. On more than one occasion now since Rosa recovered from the terrible injury to her head Solas had noticed Tal butting in rather unsubtly. It was as though he was jealous of Rosa and wanted to spend every possible moment with her. Earlier in the day, when Rosa wished to stay at camp to prepare the spindleweed and rest, Tal proclaimed they'd postpone the meeting at Redcliffe until tomorrow when Rosa could join them. But Cassandra protested so insistently that eventually Tal gave up.

Now Solas began to suspect Tal's motives were less wholesome than overprotective jealousy. His attempt to postpone the Redcliffe meeting happened only when Solas volunteered to stay behind to help Rosa care for Eliana. Now he wanted to insert himself into Rosa's fishing excursion, too. In Solas' place. An unsubtle theme had emerged.

"Actually," Rosa said, "I was hoping you would watch Elia for me while we're gone."

Tal wolfed down the remainder of his spindleweed, hurriedly swallowing. "But I want to help you fish."

"Revas and I have been watching Elia all day," Rosa pointed out. "I'd just like a few minutes away."

"She'll get hungry and start crying," Tal said. "You know she will."

Rosa shot him a look that bordered on irritation. "I just fed her."

"You sure she got enough?" Tal asked, cocking one brow. Solas felt his cheeks flush at the unspoken meaning he knew that question carried that their other companions might not understand. Since her injury Rosa struggled with keeping Eliana satisfied. The baby was hungry more frequently than she was before because Rosa's milk supply dropped while she was unconscious.

"I'm not going to be gone long enough for her to get hungry," Rosa said, irritation now clear in her voice.

"I'll watch the kid if Stoic won't," Varric put in.

Tal scowled. "Fine. I will watch her." Rising from his spot, Tal moved around the fire to Solas and stooped down, reaching for the baby. Solas almost protested, feeling abruptly overprotective. But he held himself in check and helped lift Eliana up to her uncle. He knew better than to insult Tal by trying to keep hold of Eliana even if, somewhere deep inside, he feared Tal might become inebriated and have a moment of carelessness that could be deadly.

Eliana whimpered a little as her uncle carried her to the opposite side of the fire, but she calmed and then began to laugh as Tal blew raspberries into her stomach. The baby's bubbling laughter drew smiles from Cassandra, Varric, and the new Warden as they watched their Herald entertain his niece. Any fear Solas had regarding Tal and Eliana vanished, leaving him surprised at how quickly he had grown possessive of her.

"We will be back before full dark," Rosa said, drawing Solas out of his reverie. He checked the position of the sun as he got to his feet and grabbed up his stave to follow Rosa out of camp. Rosa's calculation left them scarcely more than an hour. Plenty of time to catch some fish, more than was needed in a lush environment like Lake Luthias.

He tried, unsuccessfully, to quash the twist of nervous excitement in his gut at the thought that Rosa had ulterior motives for pulling him away from camp. Alone. He also wondered at Tal's strange behavior and hoped it would cease soon as he realized Solas wasn't going to leave Rosa or abandon Eliana…and also that he did not intend to pursue her romantically…

Unless, of course, Rosa wished for that. Then he could hardly deny his interest, could he?

* * *

Rosa was clammy with sweat. Her Dalish hunter armor still felt unfamiliar to her despite months of wearing it. The medium armor provided less protection than Keeper armor, but it was flexible in ways the mage armor was not. Advanced pregnancy forced Rosa to have the clan's craftsman make her hunter armor, modified for breastfeeding and a stave. The chainmail was loose now round her middle since Eliana's birth, but somehow around her breasts it seemed to only grow tighter over time.

Lake Luthias smelled damp and heady with green growing things. A musty hint of fish lingered as well. Ripples dotted the smooth surface here and there as water bugs walked over it. Dragonflies buzzed about, their elongated bodies colored emerald green and cerulean blue. The lake was abandoned and quiet now with the Warden's shack empty. It was an ideal spot for a private chat as well as a good fishing excursion.

At the boardwalk that extended out into the lake, Rosa stopped and glanced at Solas over her shoulder. "I thought we might chat," she said, trying not to sound sheepish or anxious even as her heart galloped in her throat. "In private."

"Of course," Solas replied with a small, patient smile. "I do prefer the Fade for such conversations, but I am reasonably sure we will not be overheard here."

Rosa nodded and then pulled out the fishing net from her pouch. She padded along the boardwalk, gazing off the sides to examine the water for signs of fish or plants that might hide crayfish. She had to return to camp with something to show for their time out here or the others would suspect them of…well, considering Eliana it was obvious they had a certain history. It would hardly be shocking or even unexpected if they were to renew that.

 _But that's not going to happen,_ she chastised herself even as her stomach did loopy somersaults.

Solas followed her out onto the rickety little pier. "What did you wish to discuss?"

Rosa unfurled the net, letting the bottom fall to her feet with a thump on the wood. "I promised some time ago right after you first met Elia that I would tell you something." She swallowed the swell of nervousness in her throat. "And I've been putting it off," she said, still staring at the net as she rotated it around the edges, looking for knots and holes.

Solas was silent a moment before he said, "Yes, I recall. We agreed that for Eliana's safety we must be honest with one another." His voice sounded tight, as though he was on edge too.

"Yes," Rosa said. "And after what happened…" The hitch in her throat took her by surprise as her eyes began to burn. The net blurred as tears clouded her vision. She sniffed, struggling to hold the emotion back. She forced herself to go on. "I almost died. In fact, I think if you hadn't been there to pull me out of the clutches of the demons when I was senseless, I would have died. I never would have woken."

"Please," Solas said softly, stepping up closer behind her. "Do not torment yourself with such thoughts. You do not know that you would not have recovered on your own."

She shrugged, shaking despite her efforts to tamp down the emotions. The sweat coating her had gone cold despite the relative warmth of the evening. She drew in a breath to recompose herself. "Nevertheless," she said, "I need to tell you this so you know in case something happens to me."

Now she blew out a breath and shut her eyes, trying to go numb rather than agonize over the consequences of admitting her greatest secret. She didn't know how he would take it when he learned she was Dirthamen's granddaughter. He was formerly Mythal's general, and she knew most members of Arlathan's court, especially those in service to Mythal, tended to be her relatives. That meant there was an unpleasantly high chance that Solas was some sort of close cousin or—Creators help her—an uncle.

Beyond that she also knew there were surviving struggles from Elvhenan, still echoing today. The Forbidden Ones continued to serve their masters the Forgotten Ones, even though they were trapped away by Fen'Harel according to legend. And Mythal still existed in some form. Rosa had long suspected her father was a servant of hers and his long absences and frequent risky trips into ancient ruins were done in obeisance to the Mother. As a result, Rosa rather disliked and distrusted Mythal. _Especially_ now that Solas seemed to serve her still as well and had left her because of it. Revealing her heritage to Solas could be like whispering it straight to Mythal's ear, and she knew from her father that Mythal frequently absconded with children of both friends and rivals. What use might Mythal have for her great-granddaughter?

"Yes?" Solas prompted her when she stayed silent too long.

Rosa shrugged her shoulders, trying to ease her tension. Hefting up the net, she tossed it out off the pier and let it sink. She held onto the draw line and after a moment pulled it back in. The net came in with a smattering of slimy green algae strands but no fish. Rosa clucked her tongue in disappointment and gathered the net up for another cast.

She needed to speak now. Using the net as a distraction wasn't going to work forever. Turning slightly to face him in the golden light of the deep evening, Rosa blurted it out. "I'm Dirthamen's granddaughter."

Solas stared at her, brow furrowed slightly. Then his expression softened and he nodded. "You claimed you had an ancestor who was a member of Arlathan's court. I take it this ancestor was not as distant as you implied then? What was his name?"

"Ivun," she answered, some of her tension easing at his mild reaction. Apparently this information didn't shock or appall him. "But he had many names. You didn't recognize that name, but after he woke he used a different one: Felassan."

Solas seemed to consider the name and then shook his head. "I did not know anyone at court by the name of Ivun who was Dirthamen's son. How strange." He didn't comment on her father's name post-uthenera. But why would he? Felassan woke twenty-five years earlier than Solas. The two couldn't have known each other after the fall of Elvhenan and apparently missed each other before the collapse of the Elvhen empire.

It did seem strange, considering the picture Felassan painted of the Arlathan court as a place of extended interconnected families. Mythal's circle of influence had to have overlapped heavily with Dirthamen's because they were mother and son. Rosa hesitated a moment, trying to draw up her truthsaying senses to taste a lie. Yet it remained mum. Either the talent was fickle, as it so often was, or Solas was telling the truth.

Rosa chuckled in an anxious titter. "I'm…honestly surprised at how calm you are hearing this."

Solas smiled slightly. "To be honest, I had begun to suspect your ancestry was more recently Elvhen than you claimed. Based on your vallaslin choice, I would have guessed Dirthamen was your ancestor as well."

This also didn't seem to be a lie. After all of Rosa's tension and fear surrounding this secret she felt…almost disappointed. She snorted to herself and padded further along the boardwalk, clutching the net.

"Well," she said, "I guess I was afraid for no reason." She paused at the end of the pier now and glanced back over her shoulder. "You _would_ tell me if you were my uncle or something, right?"

Solas chuckled, smirking with amusement. His blue eyes were dark with a hint of the raw want she hadn't seen since their time together in Hasmal. It set her sweating all over again, pulse racing. "I would tell you, yes," he answered, voice low and bordering on flirtatious. "But we are not. I have no living relatives—save Eliana, now."

The ball of anxiety in her gut uncoiled even more. That rang entirely true. He seemed too certain of himself in this regard for it to be anything else. And his tone rang with the wordless suggestion that rekindling their physical relationship was very much a possibility in his mind. Again, Rosa swatted that thought away as an awful idea, borne of maternal needs to find a father for Eliana _and_ the temptation of their previous fiery passion.

Clearing her throat, Rosa changed the subject slightly, turning away from him to hide the blush in her cheeks. "The reason I'm telling you this is because it affects Elia. I've been approached by demons before who want my blood—like the Formless One. I don't know exactly what for, but I think it wants to set Fear and Deceit free. I think Dirthamen bound them with blood, like in the Dalish legend. And, as his granddaughter, I'm close enough that my blood will work. Or at least that's what the demons think."

"Yes," Solas said. "I surmised as much. The Formless One was certainly very interested in you."

"It was interested in you, too," Rosa reminded him, a not-so-subtle reminder that she knew he owed her secrets too, based on their previous conversation about protecting Eliana.

She tossed the net out again, watching it sink with a few bubbles. She waited a few moments and then tugged on the draw line, pulling it in. As she felt the line tugging, wriggling, she grinned. "I caught something this time."

"Excellent," Solas said from behind her. He stepped close enough that she could feel the heat of him as he knelt to haul in the net with her.

They pulled out two decently sized fish. They flopped as Solas and Rosa deposited the net onto the wood pier, splattering water in every direction. Rosa cringed back from the droplets even as she tightened the net around them to stop the flopping. "Sorry, guys, but you get to be dinner tonight." Securing the net so it wouldn't spring open, she stood upright, holding the fish contained inside. "There. Now we have some evidence we were out here fishing and not…"

She broke off, biting her own tongue and cursing herself for a fool. Of course she'd not had sex since the few fumbling, unsatisfying encounters she shared with Mahanon after they bonded but before Eliana's birth. There was nothing after that for obvious reasons. To say she craved intimacy now was an understatement, but she had to bury that thought and not let Solas see it. There were so many reasons _not_ to become involved with him.

Yet, after what she endured in the wake of the Avvar attack that nearly killed her, all those reasons seemed flimsy indeed. It was just like when she was trapped in the Hasmal Circle, surrounded by Templars who wouldn't hesitate to beat her or even kill her if she misbehaved. A brush with death and danger worked like nothing else to strip away distraction and whittle emotions down to the core. And at Rosa's core, with Mahanon gone, she saw Solas shaping up increasingly as both father figure to Eliana and partner for herself.

Perhaps sensing her still conflicted emotions, Solas didn't comment on her words though she had little doubt he noted them. Instead he asked, "Was the dream the fear demon created for you at all accurate?"

Rosa glanced at him sidelong, bemused even as she was grateful that he had not acted on the tension between them. "What dream?"

"Apologies," Solas said, falling into step just behind her as they marched back down the length of the small pier. "I thought you would recall it."

Rosa's memories of the depths of her feverish sleep were hazy at best. She remembered pain, both physical and emotional. Everything else was a blur except she knew Solas had entered one dream and saved her. "I know you came for me in the dream," she said as they walked. "I don't remember the dream very well."

Solas hesitated, apparently uncomfortable at the topic, but he forged on anyway. "I believe it was a recreated memory of Eliana's birth. It was…more traumatic than I would have guessed. I believe the demon altered it, but because I was not present, much to my regret, I have no way to know for certain short of asking. Thus, I am asking, but you are in no way required to answer."

She smiled, warmed by the question rather because his regret at not seeing Eliana's birth or her pregnancy seemed increasingly genuine. "Well," she said, stepping off the pier into the damp grass at the lakeshore. "I've seen a few births and I think Eliana's was straightforward enough. It was a day and then most of a night with the pains and then she came strong and screaming. I all but broke Han's hand near the end it hurt so badly." She cut herself off, laughing despite the twist of loss in her chest at the mention of Mahanon.

Sobering then, Rosa stopped and stared at Lake Luthias. The golden sunshine, slowly setting to the west, painted the lake like stained glass. Her eyes smarted as the memory rose inside her again of the moment she first held Eliana and beheld the baby that had caused her such worry, shame, and joy over all the months she carried her. Worry and shame for the fear that other clans would turn her away and scoff at her, believing her a reckless or tragic or foolish woman who might not even be carrying an elven child. And then the joy, undeniable and stunningly strong as she felt the baby move inside her and saw the shadow dreamer self of her child's mind in the Fade. It was terrifying and amazing how fast the baby became nonnegotiable, worth any physical and emotional suffering she might endure.

And when she held the baby at long last and saw the tiny girl's likeness to Solas, it was bittersweet joy that stabbed her heart. She wished, more than anything in that moment, that Solas could be there to see her. And now, after a fashion, she had her wish. The demon had apparently shown him a similar scene. Ironic, then, that now Rosa was the one who didn't remember it.

She drew in a deep breath. "When she was born, my greatest regret was that you probably would never know her." Smiling at him warmly, she added, "But luckily, I was wrong about that. Thank you."

Solas shook his head. "I am not deserving of any thanks in regards to this. It is I who should be thanking you." A mixture of emotions twisted his features. His eyes were both sad and tender. "Thank you," he whispered.

She sensed turmoil and longing. He seemed to be straining toward her, fighting himself or simply holding back to watch her. Licking her lips, she answered, "You're welcome."

The desire to inch a little closer and kiss him, taste him again the way she had wanted so desperately months ago while pregnant and still grieved his absence was hard to resist. Yet Rosa held herself motionless, merely staring at him. The moment stretched on, the air heavy with the lingering emotion that lay between them, but neither was confident enough move on it just yet.

Solas broke first, withdrawing a step and gazing out at the lake. "There is much I must tell you, but I confess that I am afraid of the consequences."

Sobering, Rosa pinched her lips together, considering this change of topic. "I was afraid of telling you about my heritage, too." She chuckled. "But Rogathe used to tell me fear is the coward's path. You're not a coward, Solas."

Solas chuckled. The sound was strained and his expression was one of pain. His eyes were grave as he glanced at her. "Regarding this, I am." He drew in a breath, shoulders rising and falling, then let it out smoothly. "I fear you will deny me access to Eliana."

Rosa blinked, recoiling slightly with surprise. She shook her head. "Solas, I'm the one who asked you to be her teacher." Clenching her jaw, she hesitated a moment before admitting, "My Elvhen father was my mentor when I was a child. My mother didn't want him in my life as a father, but she knew I needed his knowledge or I would wind up possessed by demons. She tried to keep me from him emotionally and I still resent her for it because now he's dead and I was never on the best terms with him and I blame her."

She stopped, trying to swallow the sudden aching lump in her throat. Solas had averted his face from her at her words. Sorrow was thick in the air, as real as the humidity and pollen. What could be so terrible that Solas thought she would refuse him parental rights?

Yet, as she recalled her own not infrequent hostility toward him when he attempted to draw closer to her and Eliana, Rosa realized it was an entirely reasonable fear. How many times had she refused to even acknowledge his blood kinship with her daughter? Everyone knew the truth, but in front of her clan and many others she insisted Mahanon was Eliana's father. But he was dead and, while he had loved her, Mahanon was not Eliana's blood. Solas was and he desperately wanted that validation. Why _wouldn't_ he fear her withdrawing, erasing what little progress he'd made if he told her something she didn't like?

Despite the attraction still between them and the connection Eliana forever forged in blood, neither of them trusted the other. Rosa feared Solas would abandon her, fail her, and break her heart. Again. Solas, meanwhile, must be struggling with the realization that he might never redeem himself to her and as a result his rights as a parent would forever be fragile. As a man named _pride_ validation and recognition would be incredibly important to him.

Reaching for Solas' hand, Rosa gripped it tight, trying to make him look at her again. "I promise to you that I will never keep Eliana from you. I don't want to make the same mistakes my mother made with me. Elia needs you in her life and I would never take that from her."

As she spoke, Solas slowly turned his head to stare at her. His blue eyes were dark with a mixture of wariness and pain, but he squeezed her palm in turn as she finished speaking. "Thank you," he said, throat bobbing as he swallowed. "But I…must think a little longer on it."

Rosa nodded her understanding and slowly let go of his hand to take a step back. "That's fine." She tried not to show her disappointment as the certainty grew inside her that Solas did not trust her just on her word. _I will prove it to him,_ she promised herself.

Perhaps he saw her disappointment, or merely sensed it, but Solas quickly said, "There is one thing I do wish to tell you." He swallowed again and, in the fading light, Rosa saw his skin appeared a touch damp with sweat. "For Eliana's safety."

"Yes?" she asked, smiling encouragingly.

His gaze dropped to the ground as he went on. "I have never had children and I know little about their development, as you know." His cheeks were faintly red, a sure indication of his embarrassment. His ignorance had been the butt of some jokes by both herself and Tal. "But I suspect Eliana will be a very powerful mage."

This didn't strike Rosa as particularly important. She knew from Solas' presence in the Fade now that he was at least as powerful as her father, who was the strongest mage she had ever known. Yet, based on Solas' solemnity now there must be something dangerous in this.

Apparently seeing her impassive reaction, Solas edged closer and spoke in a quieter voice. "There is no way to know at this time, but as she grows she may display some _unusual_ abilities and be seen as a danger by the humans and perhaps your clan."

Rosa frowned. "But she will have both of us to teach her how to control whatever powers she has." Why was this such a concern for him?

"Yes," Solas agreed, but his tense body language revealed his doubts, the unspoken raw fear that Rosa would still push him away from his child. Before Rosa could try to reassure him again, Solas added, "But she may possibly develop talents even we do not understand. She is unique. For all intents and purposes, she is Elvhen. A child like her has not been born in countless ages. The world has changed much since Elvhenan fell. Magic has weakened greatly, but despite that she may prove to be an echo of what was lost. I fear what the humans would do to her if this comes to pass."

Rosa scowled. "How could she possibly develop abilities _you_ don't understand?"

Solas smiled tightly. "Your grandfather was Dirthamen. That means your great-grandparents were Mythal and Elag'nan. Do you know who your grandmother was? You may yet have a lineage to other Evanuris. Each of them possessed distinctive talents and jealously guarded their secrets. I do not know how Mythal controlled her talents, nor Elgar'nan his. Should Eliana have inherited something from them…"

Now understanding dawned. Rosa grimaced as cold fear washed over her. "Void take me," she cursed. "You're right." She looked to him again, mind spinning. "And you are a relative of Mythal's, aren't you? Elia could inherit something from Mythal from either of us."

Solas said nothing, his jaw clenched tight.

"Thank you for telling me this," Rosa said, breathily, still stunned that she had not considered it. "I wasn't worried at all about Elia's magic but now…" She shook her head, dizzy as she recalled the Seeker's reaction of surprise when she saw the baby already showed magic. _"Fenedhis,_ I have to start trying to teach her to hide it from the _shemlen."_

Solas winced. "As much as I abhor the idea, I agree. We must be very careful she does not draw attention."

Feeling the fish flop weakly against her knee again, Rosa nodded at Solas in agreement. She thrust out her other hand to make their words into a more formal promise. "Whatever happens between us," she said, daring to acknowledge aloud the desire she still felt, "I vow to never keep you from Eliana. For her benefit we will work together."

Without hesitation Solas took her hand and smiled warmly. "You have my word as well. I will do all that is within my power to protect our daughter, regardless of anything else."

* * *

 **Next Chapter**

"What a pleasant surprise running into you here, Herald," Dorian said, still smirking. "I wasn't expecting the Herald of Andraste to be here at the head of Inquisition operations." He motioned at their table. "Would you care for a drink? The swill here is hardly drinkable but it's better than sobriety, isn't it?"

"Damn straight," Tal agreed and quickly yanked out the chair to sit down. He lifted a hand and motioned toward Flissa back at the bar. "Hey! Wine, please!"

* * *

Alcoholism is a hard beast to shake. But Tal is trying, with the help of some forgotten magic from Solas. Like I've said before of this story, the baby shakes things up in a big way for Solas. It also changes the dynamic between Solas and Rosa. So we'll see Solas and Rosa much closer much faster in this scenario. And that big secret of Solas' is definitely affected by Eliana, too. I don't know if you guys cackle as you read about Rosa realizing Solas is "related" to Mythal aloud and he just stares at her, saying nothing. I cackled while proofreading that. He's just sitting there like, "Don't correct her. Don't say anything." Same with him not acknowledging Felassan. He's not lying that he didn't know an "Ivun" at court because Felassan lied about his court name to his kids. As Mythal's "son" Felassan in my headcanon was named Evunial. So that was the name Solas knew him by before he changed it to Fenesvir to support Fen'Harel. And then Felassan post-Veil. Of course Evunial is also a lie because his real birth name is Eolas, which he _does_ share with Rosa and Tal, but kept hidden from Solas. Phew, anyway...

Completely unrelated side-note, but I made Tal into a DnD character. He's a wild magic sorcerer searching for his missing dad, whose name is, you guessed it, Felassan. And a few sessions ago he got a letter from his dad and about died with shock. So exciting!

Thank you Cookie for reviewing! Your name is most appropriate since your reviews are like cookies to this writer! Thrilled you liked last chapter's mix of angst and comedy and awkwardness. This one I aimed mostly for humor, although Rosa had a much needed realization she's not been letting Solas have a chance to dad. So they turned a corner! And yes, Dorian is here to stay!


	9. Dareth Shiral

**Nine**

Dareth Shiral

* * *

"Lerand," said Samhel, the aforementioned elf's older brother as he knelt on the small heap of soil that represented his sibling's grave. "You were the bright star in the night sky of my life. Your light brought laughter and hope in dark times." His voice caught, roughening with grief. "I will miss you every day."

Tal swallowed repeatedly, fighting the stinging in his eyes. Lerand was a funny young man who'd quickly become a friend of Tal's when they joined the Tal-Vashoth mercenary group to journey to the Conclave together. Witnessing his brother's grief only compounded Tal's guilt that he was still alive while everyone else was dead. And, of the four Dalish that attended the Conclave, from both Lavellan and Manaria clans, Tal was probably the least deserving of life.

As Samhel rose from the little mound of earth where Lavellan clan's representatives who arrived with Rosa had buried a pinch of ash from the Temple of Sacred Ashes, the gathered elves murmured a prayer. "May Falon'Din guide your soul on the ever-changing paths of the Beyond, Lerand."

Now Rosa and Ashani stepped forward to kneel side by side at the next small mound where they'd buried another pinch of ashes to symbolize Mahanon. Both women cried openly as they laid their hands over the earth. Ashani began first.

"My son," she said in a voice raspy with tears. "I prayed to Mythal and Sylaise that they bless me with a child for many years. And when they granted my wish with such a wonderful son, I counted myself luckier than all the _shemlen_ nobles across Thedas. And now that you are gone—" She stopped, sobbing, shoulders shaking. A few others in the group let out similar cries. Rosa, still knelt beside the old healer, wrapped one arm about her in comfort.

With an effort, Ashani continued. "Now that you are gone, I will cherish every memory more precious than gold or ironbark. The Beyond will ever be enriched by your kindness, Mahanon. Mythal'enaste, I will see you again someday."

Rosa spoke now in a trembling voice. "Mahanon, _emma lath,_ our time together was brief, but I will never forget your devotion and compassion for me when I was at my lowest. I will share your memory and your love with Eliana and carry you in my heart forevermore."

The two women clung to each other as they rose to their feet and withdrew, rejoining the other assembled elves. Again the group murmured the Dalish prayer for the dead in unison. "May Falon'Din guide your soul on the ever-changing paths of the Beyond, Mahanon."

As silence fell, Tal swallowed the lump in his throat again and stepped to the last of the mounds. He sank to his knees and leaned forward to rest his hands on the mound and the ash buried beneath it. The stinging in his eyes intensified and he struggled to find his voice through the deep well of shame.

"Arvin," he began. "My friend. I did not know you long, but I knew you had a lot of wisdom to share. I wish I had listened more. You deserved more respect than what I gave you in my blundering stupidity. I…" His voice caught. Tears streamed down his cheeks. He lifted one hand, heedless that it was smeared with dirt, and wiped his face. "I pray to Mythal every day that one day I will have your patience and wisdom, _falon."_

He staggered to his feet and backed away, head bowed. His cheeks were hot with humiliation, but the words were entirely raw and real. Arvin was an older man, sent by Nola to guide him on this mission. Tal considered him a nosy babysitter. He was dismissive of Arvin in life and he regretted it now. The truth was that Arvin was a reminder of his shame. His failure as a First to clan Manaria. His failure to his Keeper, Nola. It was easier to tell himself he didn't like Arvin, but the truth was he was _running away_. Like always.

Rosa was at his side before he realized it, arms wrapped around him and her forehead against his temple. Her breathing was ragged with grief, matching his own and most of the other elves of clan Lavellan's members. They uttered the last prayer in unison. "May Falon'Din guide your soul on the ever-changing paths of the Beyond, Arvin."

As the pseudo-leader of this funeral, Rosa separated from Tal and said, "We will honor your memories with new life in our homelands. While we all die one day, we must remember that the memory of those we lost lives on, just as the clan does. Now we must endure. _Var vhen suledin._ "

The others repeated the phrase, though right now it was clear they felt more grief and loss than hope. _"Var vhen suledin."_

Rosa repeated now a little stronger, with a new word. _"Var vhen nadas suledin."_

The assembled clan repeated it, too. Tal managed to speak it through numbed lips. _"Our people must endure."_

The funeral broke up then. The clan members turned and began walking downhill. The funeral had taken place on the slopes above the mountain lake outside of Haven, on the path that led up to the ruins of the temple. The three little mounds stood barren and empty. Normally the clan would have planted seedlings in the earth, with the ash inside to nourish them. But Rosa and her clan had decided not to do that here. They wanted to plant the trees in the Free Marches, in their clan's nomadic lands. That way living relatives like Ashani and Samhel could visit the trees as they grew. Clan Manaria would do the same for Arvin.

The clan headed toward Haven as a solid group, marching past where Revas waited with Eliana in her sling. He seemed shy of the elves, Tal noticed, averting his gaze or pretending to be absorbed with Eliana even though the baby was dozing off against his chest. Yet, as Rosa and Tal reached him, Revas nodded to them with a tight smile and said, _"Var vhen nadas suledin."_

Rosa smiled at him and sadness melted gradually away as she reached for Eliana in the sling, cooing. "Hello sweetling. Did you have a good time with _babae?"_

Tal resisted the desire to roll his eyes, choosing to wipe at them to clear away the remaining tears instead. For the last few weeks since their time in the Hinterlands, Tal had noticed a distinct change in Rosa's behavior toward Revas. Before her brush with death from the head wound Rosa had bristled and resisted Revas' attempts to co-parent with her. Now it was the exact opposite. Revas frequently watched Eliana and, when Rosa reclaimed the baby, she referred to Revas as _babae._ She used it even when Revas wasn't around, too. It was obvious she was trying to teach Eliana to call Revas _babae_ or _baba._ She wanted Eliana to know and acknowledge Revas as her father.

And, oddly, Tal _hated_ this. He suspected the irritation inside him was purely Rogathe, bristling with overprotectiveness for Rosa and Eliana. Yet, it was difficult to overcome the reaction because it was just so…visceral.

Eliana perked up as her mother chucked her cheek and chin. She got both arms out of the sling and flapped them, reaching for Rosa. "Maaaaaaaah…"

"Would you like the sling?" Revas asked.

"No," Rosa said, still tickling Eliana beneath her chin, grinning at her exaggeratedly. "She's not hungry just yet. I need to bid the clan goodbye. Can you carry her for a while more?"

"Of course. I will take her to my cabin."

"Thank you," Rosa said, eyes darting between the baby and Revas. Then she pressed close and kissed Eliana noisily on the cheek. "You be good for _babae_ sweetling."

Eliana giggled and squealed, reaching for her mother's hair.

Tal turned his head skyward, shutting his eyes and wishing it would rain whiskey in an uncontrollable deluge. If he had to hear one more _babae_ out of his sister he was going to scream. Yet, the irrational anger also made him despise himself for feeling that way. _This isn't me._ He _really_ needed a drink to dull down Rogathe's influence on his mind and personality before he snapped at his sister and her baby daddy for reconciling—something that he was _sure_ he actually thought was beautiful and wonderful. It was just Rogathe fucking everything up. The pendant and its blood magic spell could only do so much, mainly keeping the spirit from showing itself to others. It didn't hide Rogathe's influence from Tal.

As Revas marched away, still carrying Eliana in the sling, Rosa turned to Tal. "I'm going to see my clan off. Can I trust you to go talk with your advisors?"

They'd been back at Haven for two days now and all the _shemlen_ were breathing down Tal's neck, demanding he talk strategy with them for meeting with Magister Alexius. Or, alternatively, that he sign off on Josephine and Cullen's plan to force the Templars to meet with them somewhere. Tal kept putting the humans' demands off. First he wanted to rest after the weeks and weeks of travel. And now today he told them he didn't want to meet as the clan planned funeral services for the three dead Dalish.

He frowned at his sister. "Seriously? No. The _shemlen_ can wait a while. I'm not in the right state of mind to deal with this shit."

Rosa matched his frown with one of her own. "If the right state of mind for you is drunk off your ass then—"

"Not drunk," Tal interrupted her. "Just buzzed. A little." At her glare he rushed to defend himself, explaining. "It shuts Rogathe down."

Taking a step closer, Rosa reached out to his chest and found the lump of the talisman Revas shaped for him. "I've dealt with Rogathe before too, _da'isamalin,_ " she reminded him softly. "I didn't need to be _buzzed_ to handle it. I don't think you need to either."

Tal ducked closer to her, whispering harshly. "You and Rogathe got along. I _despise_ him because I am a Creators-damned coward and we both know it." He jerked back from her, shoulders slumping. He scrubbed at his face and then, before he could let the worried expression on Rosa's face sink in, Tal rushed past her for Haven.

When Rosa called after him, feet crunching on old snow and gravel as she sprang toward him, Tal shouted back at her, "Just leave me alone, Rosa."

"Tal…"

"Seriously," Tal yelled. "Just leave me be a while."

He was honestly surprised when her footsteps didn't follow—as well as somehow relieved and disappointed simultaneously. Part of him hoped Rosa would stay nipping at his heels like a wolf chasing a halla, because despite what he said to her about wanting to be only buzzed, Tal wasn't sure he could hold back. Revas' Elvhen spells provided so much relief from all negative side effects of drinking too much or stopping altogether that he could swing wildly between excess and good behavior with little consequence.

Still, he _hated_ himself when he drank. Nightmares plagued him where he relived the moment the Avvar attacked and he was so hung-over he was useless. He saw Rosa bludgeoned to death. Or he found himself held down as an Avvar ripped Eliana from his arms and tore her apart. And, sometimes, he had nightmares where both happened in a delightfully gruesome spectacle. He always woke doused in sweat, heart pounding, head aching, and tears racing down his cheeks. Every time he drank now it was a reminder of his incompetence, of his failure in that moment to protect his sister and niece. He knew that every time he drank he was letting Rosa down.

And yet, almost as though he had no control over his own feet, he found himself walking into the tavern. The air was warm and smelled of alcohol and sweat. A fire roared in the hearth, orange and merry. Inquisition scouts and Haven commoners lingered about the place, nursing a variety mugs, wine bottles and glasses.

And then, as he neared Flissa's bar, Tal heard the sharp cackling giggles of Sera, the strange elven archer they recruited weeks ago in Val Royeaux. With all the traveling he'd done Tal hadn't had much of a chance to ever sit and chat with her. Now he saw her lanky figure sitting at one of the roughhewn tables in the tavern, chatting with some man wearing luxurious silver-white silk in a strange pattern…

"Dorian?" he asked, gawking with recognition as he reached their table.

The Tevinter turned his head to Tal, smirking from some funny exchange with Sera. "Yes?" His brown eyes were bright, though a tad too wet from alcohol. He had a wine bottle and glass on the table beside him. Sera had a mug of ale that looked entirely too big for her and seemed to be much drunker than Dorian.

"Hey Heraldy," Sera greeted him, giggling. "Where's your mum shadow?" she asked, referring to Rosa. The archer and Rosa hadn't gotten along in their first exchange and Tal suspected they were avoiding each other. Another reason he rarely had a chance to talk to Sera—because Rosa _was_ like his shadow.

Tal let out a tight, anxious chuckle as he wondered what Dorian must think of this strange conversation starter. "She's off with her clan," he said, shrugging. "I ditched her."

"What a pleasant surprise running into you here, Herald," Dorian said, still smirking. "I wasn't expecting the Herald of Andraste to be here at the head of Inquisition operations." He motioned at their table. "Would you care for a drink? The swill here is hardly drinkable but it's better than sobriety, isn't it?"

"Damn straight," Tal agreed and quickly yanked out the chair to sit down. He lifted a hand and motioned toward Flissa back at the bar. "Hey! Wine, please!"

Sera slurped from her mug, smacking her lips noisily before she wiped away the moisture. "So many frigging weirdies in this place, yeah?" she said, complaining. "You both do me a favor?"

"What exactly would that be?" Dorian asked her, pouring more wine.

Flissa walked by and deposited a bottle on the table, already open. Tal thanked her and drank straight from it in a big gulp. He set it back down and burped, swallowing the sound to be more polite. "Whatever you want, Sera."

"Warn me before you bust out in demons," she said, eyes darting between the two mages.

Dorian laughed. "Bust out in demons? Are you serious?" He glanced to Tal, grinning. "I'm trying to imagine us both 'busting out' with demons. How would that work exactly? And from where?"

"Your arse," Sera answered, frowning. After a pause, considering, she shrugged. "Maybe your head. Dunno how it works, right. Just know scary shite like that is real. So warn me, yeah?"

Tal groaned, remembering Rogathe. Sera and Dorian both looked at him and Tal quickly drank from his wine, guzzling it. When he finished he said, "Stomachache."

"You gonna warn me or not?" Sera demanded, losing patience.

"Of course," Dorian quipped. "But only because I like you so much."

"Only just met me, twat," Sera pointed out.

"And yet I still cannot help but find you so charming," Dorian said, sipping from his glass again. "Everyone here in the south is so delightfully poignant and eloquent. I love the lot of you to bits."

"Stop making up words," Sera grumbled. Her ire transitioned to Tal. Both brows lifted high. "How about you, Heraldy?"

"That nickname stinks," Tal muttered. He swirled the wine in his bottle, enjoying the tinkling noise. "Pretty sure I already busted out with demons when I was a kid so I got that out of my system pretty young."

Sera scoffed, cringing. "Get off!"

Dorian laughed at her horror and quickly joined in on the fun. "Yes, I do recall what a lovely time it was the last time I was possessed."

Tal laughed much harder at this than was probably appropriate, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Guzzling more wine, he didn't manage to stifle his next burp and slapped a hand over his mouth, blushing. "Oops."

Sera had apparently had enough of their banter and, snarling, shot to her feet—only to sway dangerously. Her hand slammed against the nearby wall as she nearly fell over. Tal laughed and Dorian smirked. "Can't hold your ale, love?"

"I'm fine, weirdies," Sera said and, with minimal swaying or lurching, she stormed out of the tavern.

After she was gone Dorian looked to Tal. "Is she always like that?"

Tal shrugged. "To be honest I haven't had many chats with her. I've spent so much time traveling or stuck in meetings with the _sh—_ the advisors."

Dorian nodded his understanding. "Yes, I'm sure you have. I met with your Commander. You'll have to forgive me. I've forgotten his name but he was the strapping fellow with the brown puppy dog eyes."

"Yeah, that's Cullen exactly," Tal said. "You nailed him."

Dorian laughed as though this was especially funny and then cut it short, recollecting himself. It took Tal's slow mind a moment to catch the accidental innuendo. He felt himself blush and immediately stammered, "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

"That's quite all right. I rather enjoy double entendre. It's _especially_ delightful when it's accidental." He shifted in his seat, cocking his head slightly as he scrutinized Tal with more intelligence than anyone had right to have while also apparently being somewhat intoxicated. "You look quite young. How old are you, if you don't mind my asking? I don't mean to offend. I'm just curious."

Tal grimaced. His cheeks still felt hot. Still, he couldn't _not_ answer. "I just turned twenty a few months ago."

Dorian's lips parted slightly and his brows arched. "So young. When I was your age I was still in training, apprenticed to Alexius." He lifted a hand as if to forestall Tal's questions or protestations. "This was, of course, long before Alexius got mixed up with the Venatori, mind you." The Tevinter mage stared at him, considering him. "How did you come to be involved with all this?"

Tal drank sloppily from his wine bottle again as he mulled over that question. When he finished he didn't answer right away. Finally he let out a sullen chuckle. "I went to spy on the Conclave." He shrugged. "And got lucky, I guess, when I didn't die?"

"I imagine this is all a little much, yes," Dorian agreed, smiling. An expression somewhere close to sympathy lingered in his eyes. "But I appreciate you and your people meeting me at Redcliffe and at least considering stopping Alexius."

"Oh," Tal said, lifting a hand as though to forestall the other mage's words. "Don't consider it _considered_ , consider it _done."_ He stopped, staring at Dorian as he processed what he said and grimaced with embarrassment. Was it the alcohol already doing him in right now or was it the attraction tongue-tying him? His cheeks got hotter and he cleared his throat, hoping he seemed youthful and earnest rather than drunken and stupid.

Dorian's lush lips beneath his mustache twitched slightly and his eyes skimmed briefly over Tal with what might have been appreciation—or, maybe, just amusement. Or bemusement. _Creators,_ Tal thought, cursing himself. _Dread Wolf take my stupid awkward mouth._

"I've never met one of your people before," Dorian admitted in a cool voice as he sat back in his chair and picked up his wine bottle to pour out a little more. "Are you…Dalish? Is that the correct term here in the south?"

"Yeah." Tal shrugged, still fighting that frustrating blush. He grabbed his wine bottle and sat back in his own chair, mirroring Dorian's posture. He didn't have a glass to pour his wine out, but he deliberately only sipped on the bottle. "It's the correct term everywhere, actually. But I'm guessing my people don't stray as far north as Tevinter."

"Yes," Dorian said, sniffing as he swirled his wine in his glass. "You're right. They don't." He was silent a moment before adding, "To be honest, I've never spoken to an elf who wasn't a slave."

And just like that Tal's blush faded as he bristled. He looked away, frowning as he contemplated giving some excuse to leave. Was that all Dorian saw him as? A pair of pointed ears on a tattooed face? Sure, he was the humans' Herald, if the Tevinter chose to believe their stories and not just see the mark as a strange magic. Was he sitting here marveling at this man who in his nation would have been a slave like a king condescending to the unwashed masses?

"Well," Tal said, swallowing. "I should—"

"I'm sorry," Dorian interrupted him quickly, a tight smile on his handsome lips. "I didn't mean to offend. It's just so different here in the south. Slaves are everywhere in my homeland. I couldn't imagine life without them until I came here. Now…" He broke off, giving a little laugh that was almost more of a titter. "I can't stop noticing the differences. I imagine it was the same for you, yes? You came from the Free Marches and I assume you lived with only other elves before this?"

Tal drank sloppily from his wine bottle now. He nodded after swallowing. "My clan was small after slavers and bandits attacked us." The bitterness in his voice made him wince and it seemed to strike Dorian, making him recoil slightly.

"I'm sorry to hear that." His brow furrowed. "If I had the means I'd offer to try and find your missing kinsmen and buy their freedom, but I'm something of a pariah since leaving my homeland." He sipped from his glass and swished the wine about in it again idly, avoiding eye contact.

"Thank you for the offer," Tal said, relaxing. "But I can't imagine you'd find them. Us Dalish don't make very good slaves." He smirked, thinking of his sister. "Too stubborn. Your people probably shoved them into salt mines or some other dangerous work to kill them quick." He sighed, feeling more saddened by that than anything else. "And anyway, I'm something of a pariah too. My Keeper won't welcome me back after all this is over."

Dorian's smile was warm now. He lifted his glass in a mock toast. "To mutual appreciation as outcasts."

Tal snatched his wine bottle and lifted it to clink Dorian's glass. "You said it." He took a gulp from the bottle, finishing it off. But as he lowered the bottle he flinched, hearing a disappointed sigh from behind him that he recognized all too easily. _"Fenedhis,"_ he grumbled, tossing a miserable look Dorian's way. "Here's my nanny."

"Tal," Rosa chided from behind him, stepping up to their table and plopping down in the chair Sera abandoned. She grabbed the wine bottle, tearing it from his nerveless fingers and scoffing with irritation as she discovered it was already empty. "I'm _really_ disappointed in you."

Dorian smirked. "You have a nanny, Herald? I knew you were young but I didn't realize you were _that_ young."

Rosa shot the Tevinter a glare. "This is none of your concern."

"Well," Dorian said with a chilly smile. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure." He dipped his head to Rosa slightly. "I am Dorian of house Pavus, out of Minrathous. And you? Aside from being a killjoy, of course. That part is obvious."

Rosa's glare intensified and Tal groaned, flushing with distress as he felt Rogathe squirming inside like an oversized parasitic worm. He clenched his jaw, bouncing one leg with mounting anxiety. The spirit of bravery inside him wanted to lash out at Dorian, to defend Rosa viciously. Tal held it in check, just barely.

" _I_ am the Herald's sister," Rosa snapped. "And you'd do well to learn some respect, Tevinter slaver."

Dorian opened his mouth to protest or make some other witty insult but Rosa grabbed Tal's arm and pulled him with her as she stood upright. "Come on, _da'isamalin._ You've had enough to drink and enough bad company for one morning."

Dorian snorted but said nothing, returning to his wine.

Tal let Rosa haul him out of the tavern, red faced and slouching as he grappled with Rogathe, trying to squash the bravery spirit's rage so it wouldn't leak over to himself. Yet once they were out of the tavern on the path leading to the Chantry, Tal dug his heels into the snow and gravel to jerk his arm out of Rosa's grasp. "Leave off, would you?"

Rosa stopped and turned to him, scowling. "What's the matter with you?" she asked, shaking her head as her expression twisted with something akin to pain as well as anger. "What is it going to take for you to stop chasing the bottle? Revas told me when I was unconscious and non one knew if I would live or die that you told everyone you blamed yourself. You were ready to kill yourself rather than own up to it."

Tal winced, taking a few steps back from her. "Rosa," he said, all anger leaving him. Rogathe writhed inside him, pressing against its bounds. The enchanted totem Tal wore kept the spirit from breaking through but it was _furious_ with him. It made Tal feel nauseous, skin prickling and breath caught in his throat. "That's not what it was…"

"No?" she asked, moving closer to him again. "I don't believe you."

"I was scared shitless of losing you," Tal told her through gritted teeth. "I can't do any of this without you."

"Then stop drinking," Rosa snapped. "Because you're putting _everyone_ including me in danger when you're constantly shitfaced."

Tal gnashed his teeth even more as Rogathe pressed on its bounds again, desperate to let him know how much it agreed with Rosa. "It's not that simple," he snarled under his breath. "Rogathe is _impossible._ I can't stand being in my own skin unless it's drugged."

"You're going to have to deal with it," Rosa said, somber and severe. "You need to grow up and stop chasing your own pleasure before you wind up killing yourself."

"I'm not," Tal protested, snarling as much at his sister as at Rogathe inside. The spirit didn't believe him and neither did Rosa.

"You are," Rosa said. "And you can't afford to." She motioned at the tavern. "You don't know anything about that Tevinter guy in there but I find you schmoozing with him like he's just any other _shemlen._ His people _enslave_ us everyday. You should know this better than anyone. Slavers decimated Manaria clan. My own clan fended off a few attacks in years gone by just barely because Lavellan's numbers are strong." She shook her head in consternation. "What would your Keeper think of you if she saw you?"

The reminder of Nola made Tal grimace, recoiling again with shame. Rogathe beat on him from within, agreeing with every word from his sister with the emphasis of a hammer pounding steel. Yet, instead of letting that shame take hold Tal quickly pushed it down and snatched out another topic that was bothering him—or Rogathe, maybe, he couldn't tell anymore.

"What about you?" he snapped.

Rosa's brows lifted into her forehead with surprise and she let out a little surprised sound. "What about me? How are you _possibly_ going to turn this onto me?"

Now Rogathe was in agreement with Tal and that eased the internal pressure, letting some of Tal's tension ease even as he confronted his sister. "Fucking Revas, that's how."

Rosa rolled her eyes. "I'm _not_ romantically involved with Revas, but you _cannot_ expect me to shut him out. He's Elia's father. Whether you like it or not, Revas is going to—"

"I might like to drink," Tal snarled. "But I'm not blind, _asamalin._ You might not be fucking him now but you will be. And that's the _stupidest_ idea ever. He abandoned you. He broke his promise. He ran off to Mythal knows where and left you. He'll do it again, mark my words."

Silence fell as the siblings stared at each other, nostrils flaring with every breath and faces mottled red with quiet rage. The noises of everyday life in Haven went on around them and snow fell softly from the partly cloudy sky—a late spring flurry. Chancellor Roderick shouted from the Chantry, announcing afternoon prayers and the singing of the Chant for the faithful Andrastians.

Finally Rosa said, "You don't know that. But I _do_ know that if you keep drinking you'll wind up dead or your fecklessness will get someone you care about killed." She swallowed, eyes too wet now as rage apparently tipped over to grief. She turned her head slightly, eyes landing on the snow rather than meet his stare. "I understand you were upset when I was hurt and ready to follow me into the Beyond if I died. But I want you to promise me you'll never do anything so stupid."

Tal frowned, feeling the promise riding on his tongue. He knew it was right but fought it out of stubbornness until the pressure from Rogathe finally made him blurt, "Fine."

"People need you," Rosa said softly. "If something happens to me you have to think of them, or Eliana." She swallowed again, eyes still wet. "And that's why I'm so hard on you about the drinking. Because I love you and I want to protect you."

He sighed, shoulders slumping and unable to meet her gaze. "You're right. I want to stop. I want to be what these people need me to be but…"

She reached out and laid a hand on his bicep, squeezing as she smiled reassuringly. "It'll come, _da'isamalin._ Just keep trying. I'll be here to help you."

Now Tal's eyes stung. He stepped closer and pulled Rosa into a hug, wrapping his arms around his sister's shoulders to take comfort in her solidness. She was alive, in spite of his own shameful behavior. He needed to listen to her or risk a repeat of the Avvar attack. Whether that was Rogathe's wisdom or his own, Tal couldn't say. But right this moment he agreed with it.

When they pulled back from each other Tal drew in a deep breath, steadying himself. "All right. Can you ask Revas to cast his _booze-tastes-like-piss_ spell again? I…I kind of need a little help with this sobriety thing."

Rosa nodded, smiling tenderly. "Of course. I'm sure he'll be happy to do it." She motioned toward the Chantry. "But first how about we go find your advisors and discuss meeting the creepy Magister in Redcliffe?"

Tal sat on the groan building on his throat. He'd much rather go drink with Dorian in the tavern. But Rosa was right. He did his best to smile. "Lead the way, _asamalin."_

* * *

When the knock came on his cabin door, Solas was so absorbed with watching his daughter sleep that he almost fazed out the sound. He blinked, lifting his head and gazing at the door. He knew who would be on the other side as he slowly rose to his feet—careful not to shake the cot and waken Eliana—and walked to the door.

Sure enough when he opened it he saw Rosa on the other side, smiling. She lifted a bundle of cloth up to him. "Cotton," she explained. "For any mending you need to do on the trip to Redcliffe."

Solas lifted a finger to his lips to caution her. "Eliana is sleeping."

Rosa's lips formed a near perfect circle as she whispered, "Oh! Sorry." She leaned in slightly, gazing round the corner toward his cot. Solas laid a hand on her shoulder, ushering her inside gently as he stepped aside. She moved to his desk first as Solas shut the door.

She set the bundle of cloth on his desk overtop of the Tevinter tome he'd been transcribing and translating to both common and elven for weeks now. The common translation was the official work, of course. The elven one was for his personal reference and he kept it hidden in his pack when not actively working on it.

His work tended to lay untouched during Rosa and Eliana's frequent visits, a fact he hardly considered until Cassandra or Leliana came asking about it and then he would abashedly admit it was unfinished. The spymaster was forgiving of his tardiness, smiling when he admitted it. The Seeker, meanwhile, usually huffed in irritation and, before he could consider it, Solas was making excuses for himself. _I was preoccupied with caring for Eliana._ That typically made Cassandra back off. He hated his own delay in processing work, but found he had no shame revealing the truth and made no promises to process the tome faster. Eliana came first, as did Rosa.

"Thank you," Solas told her quietly, smiling as he laid a hand over the bundle of cloth. "I suspect I will find a use for it."

Rosa stood near his cot now, staring down at the sleeping baby with a tender expression. "Of course," she whispered and then her posture changed slightly, dejected. "I'm going to miss you."

Solas left his desk and moved to stand behind her, one hand resting on her shoulder. "We agreed it is better for Eliana that you remain here."

It was now two weeks since they'd returned from the Hinterlands where they'd recruited the Warden and met with Redcliffe's mages. In that time Tal and his advisors had gradually agreed and begun planning to meet Magister Alexius. They were going to set a trap for the Magister, knowing full well that the Magister had already set a trap for them in turn. Solas approved of this plan and of recruiting the rebel mages and had agreed to accompany Tal to the Hinterlands as part of his inner circle. He would be at Tal's side as they confronted the magister.

Surreptitiously, Solas' presence would also ensure Tal remained sober using his magic. Yet, though Rosa most assuredly wanted Solas to accompany her brother, protecting him and safeguarding his ongoing efforts at sobriety, he also knew she was worried about his absence.

Since her clan left Haven almost two weeks ago after their communal funeral to return to the Free Marches, Rosa was like a bird without a nest. She slept in Tal's cabin usually, but also visited Solas frequently, leaving Eliana with him. She seemed uncomfortable, torn between staying with her brother and cohabitating with Solas as more and more Haven natives clearly presumed they were romantically involved—even though they were most definitely _not._

Much to Solas' regret, of course. They both held back, reluctant to reengage for varying reasons. For Rosa Solas suspected it was fear of him suddenly abandoning her once more. And for Solas…well, how could he bare his body to her again without also fully exposing his heart? That meant telling her the truth. The horrible full truth of who he was and what he had done. But the fear of losing her and Eliana was so visceral and real he found himself spineless, rooted to his lies of omission for the safety they offered. The longer he put it off the more he proved his worth to Rosa as partner and fellow parent.

"I will miss you as well," he told her and meant it. "Both you and Elia."

She turned toward him, smiling bittersweet. Solas let his hand fall from her shoulder, determined not to tempt or goad her toward more physical expressions of affection though he yearned for more. It was easy to sense the same emotion in her, especially as her violet eyes flicked repeatedly to his lips.

"Thank you," she murmured, pressing closer to him. "For all the help you've given me these past few weeks." Her hands moved to his chest, warm even through his tunic. "With Elia."

Solas smiled at her and took one of her hands in his own, squeezing. "It has been my pleasure." Even as he railed against himself for it, Solas dipped his head a margin closer to her and added, "Thank you for allowing me to aid you and learn how to care for her."

He had an instant to realize he'd apparently gone too far with the charm—and _fenedhis,_ he should have known better—as her expression went slack with desire and her pupils swelled. Then her hand made a fist, closing on his tunic neckline, and pulled him down to meet her lips in a brazen kiss. Solas responded at once as all thought washed away.

Releasing his grip on her hand, Solas wound it round her waist, fingers splayed. His other hand curled around her neck, sliding under her messy braid and feeling the silkiness of both her skin and hair. Cupping the back of her neck with his long fingers and brushing his thumb over her ear, he felt her shudder and press closer. His arm around her waist pulled tighter until her hips met his just as his tongue delved into her mouth, greedy and hungry.

She arched backward, craning her neck and opening wider to him. Her hands mirrored his as she wound one arm about his waist, palm and fingers feeling over his back. Her other hand at his tunic neckline slid up, nails lightly dragging over what little skin he left exposed. Now it was Solas who shivered as her touch worked over his flesh and brushed his ear. He let out a small sound of appreciation even as his mind spun distantly with shock at how swiftly he lost control. He could already feel the heat gathering in his loins as his body rushed to very literally rise to the occasion.

He'd forgotten how powerful and _fast_ his mortal body now was in regards to sex. Before the Veil and his long sleep he had far better mastery over himself and could engage in foreplay without such a strong and fast physical reaction. Now it shamed him how eager his body was for release when he had no right to such selfish desires.

With his cheeks flaring hot, Solas broke the passionate kiss, turning his head from Rosa and sucking in several rapid breaths. Rosa nuzzled his ear, her respiration as fast as his with obvious want. He couldn't bring himself to push her away though he knew he should. "We shouldn't," he said instead, gasping.

Rosa's breath still puffed in his ear and against his neck, but she didn't tease or ply him with kisses. "I know," she murmured. Now she did pull away, slowly.

Solas kept a hold on her, hands sweaty and heart pounding. He didn't want to release her and give up the possibility of sex, but he knew he didn't deserve it and it wasn't right while she didn't know the full truth about him. But still his body yearned for her, its reaction clearly visible to his shame. Even though they had had sex more times than he could count in the relatively short time they knew one another in the Free Marches, Solas still grimaced with chagrin when he saw her gaze flick briefly down. It was the impetus he needed to force himself to let go of her and turn away.

"My apologies," he told her over his shoulder. He struggled with the embarrassment of trying to hide his arousal versus just keeping his back to her until it went away. "It has been a long time."

Rosa chuckled huskily, plainly still aroused herself by the sound of it. "I know the feeling," she said. "But I think it would be better to wait rather than act on this." He heard her shift, clothing rustling as she adjusted her stance. "Or, maybe we should just focus entirely on Elia and never start on that path. It might be better for her."

Now he frowned, disagreeing. As much as he did want to do the right thing by revealing the truth to Rosa to let her decide with full knowledge whether she even _could_ care for him, he wasn't going to let this go without owning his emotions. With his arousal…well, _deflated_ enough he could turn round, Solas pivoted toward her again.

"Rosa," he said seriously, "Please understand my hesitation is not a lack of affection. Nor do I feel it is in Eliana's best interests for us to avoid romantic entanglement, quite the contrary." The look she shot him was equal parts desire and trepidation. Solas took a step closer until he could hold her hands, meeting her eye meaningfully. "My wish is to forestall a physical relationship until…" The words seemed to desert him, drying up on his tongue, but he forced himself to go on anyway. "…you know the truth."

Now Rosa frowned though she didn't withdraw or pull her hands from him. "I appreciate that," she said. "But—"

A loud knock came from the door, making both of them jump and Eliana stirred on the cot, jerking as she came awake. Rosa immediately hurried to the cot, sitting beside Eliana and reaching out to comfort the baby as she whimpered, thinking she was alone. Solas strode to the door and opened it to find Tal on the other side.

"Revas," he said, dipping his chin. "Ready to ride out for the Hinterlands? Those rebel mages aren't going to rescue themselves from Magister what's-his-face without us." Then, without leaning in to gaze around the corner he called, "Hi _asamalin._ Sorry if I woke Elia."

"It's fine," Rosa answered from within, eliminating any mystery as to her whereabouts.

Solas struggled to clear the frown from his face, hoping it was not obvious Tal had interrupted more than Eliana's nap. "I am nearly packed," he said and then, unable to stop himself, added, "It is not yet time for us to leave. You're early."

Tal's grin was forced. "So? I'm excited to get underway!" Then, licking his lips, he leaned in and said, "And I kind of need you to cast that anti-withdrawal spell on me again."

Solas sighed and stepped back, letting Tal inside his cabin. "I could have done this on the road," he said and then frowned as the words sounded like complaining even to his ears.

"I know," Tal replied, shrugging. "But I'm suffering now. My head's pounding and I'm craving wine something fierce—even Flissa's piss wine would do."

Solas murmured the incantation under his breath and shaped the spell using spirit magic, then laid his hands on Tal's shoulder. The magic sank into the younger elf and he groaned, shuddering. "That should do it."

"You would be better by now if you didn't keep relapsing," Rosa scolded him from the cot where she sat stroking Eliana's back. The baby cooed contentedly, soaking up her mother's touch like a sponge.

Tal waved a hand at her dismissively. "Yeah, yeah _mamae."_ He moved to the bed and stooped over Eliana, laying a wet kiss over her fuzzy haired head. "I'll see you in a few weeks _da'lan."_

Rosa picked up Eliana and sat the baby on her lap, gripping one little arm and making a waving motion. "Say bye to _ba'isamalin,_ sweetling."

Eliana blew out a raspberry, grinning at her uncle. She flapped her other arm and then reached out toward Tal. "Baaaaaah! Babababababa."

Tal shrugged, chuckling. "Close enough, kiddo." He ducked down again, kissing Eliana on the cheek. The baby gripped him by the ears and giggled, still reaching as he withdrew and headed for the door. "You coming, Revas?"

Striving for patience, Solas said, "In a moment, Herald." Ignoring Tal's protests at the title, Solas walked over to the cot and knelt to be on Eliana's level. The baby recognized him at once, grinning and reaching for his face. Awe still struck Solas every so often when he recognized his own features in his daughter's face. Her round blue eyes and plump little lips and her brown red-tinted hair robbed him of voice for an instant before he leaned in and kissed her head softly.

"Say bye-bye to _babae,"_ Rosa encouraged the baby, waving one pudgy arm just as she had for Tal. "Bye-bye _baba."_ The acknowledgement in her use of the affectionate _babae_ and _baba_ still left him warm even after weeks of hearing it. He would never had expected such a reaction from himself, but there it was—repeatedly.

"Babababuh," Eliana babbled. Her grin now showcased small pale nubs where she was cutting her front teeth.

" _Dareth shiral,"_ Solas told her and then lifted his gaze to Rosa. "I shall see you both again soon. You are welcome to use my cabin while I am away."

Rosa smiled at him. "Thank you."

"Revas," Tal called impatiently from outside. "Chop-chop!"

Sighing, Solas rose to his feet and found his traveling bag. He quickly packed a few final things into it, including Rosa's gift of cloth. Then, hesitating on the threshold, he glanced one last time at Rosa and Eliana, taking the memory with him as he stepped off into the cold to follow Tal into the Hinterlands.

* * *

 **Next Chapter**

Still breathing roughly, Tal hauled himself up out of his slouched retching pose. He gripped Dorian's forearm when he wobbled a little and then quickly released it, swallowing. "Sorry."

Dorian's brow furrowed with concern. "You look…" He grimaced. "How do I say this…delicately? Bad. Yes. You look like the peasants in Minrathous after a weeklong tavern crawl celebrating Satinalia." The other mage summoned mana for healing, his palms glowing white-gold as he reached out and laid a hand on Tal's shoulder. "Did Alexius hit you with some kind of spirit-wasting spell perchance?"

* * *

Tal is still struggling to be sober, obviously, but we had a kiss here! Woot! Next chapter we are going to Redcliffe! And we will be breaking canon! Both game canon *and* Rosa Stands Tall canon. The dark future of Redcliffe looks VERY different when the roles are reversed and we have Rosa free.

Honestly I forgot my upload order, but I am pretty sure Tal was a week late before and so last weekend I owed you guys another Tal. I could have that backwards but...oh well.

Thank you so much for reviewing, Frogbutton! I'm thrilled you liked the last two chapters! Tal had a little relapse here, but he's definitely still trying. And yes, Solas and Rosa are going to continue in this closer path. Rosa's definitely making good on her promise to give Solas credit as daddy. Dorian and Tal do totally have immediate chemistry, too. It's funny how thier roles have reversed here in so many ways, not just the Anchor. Tal's a daddy at the end over in RST meanwhile Rosa is a mommy from the start here. Thank you for being patient with me and reviewing so faithfully!


	10. Hushed Whispers Part 1: Hurling Herald

**A/N:** You guys ready for Redcliffe?! AHHHH!

* * *

 **Ten**

Hushed Whispers Part 1: Hurling Herald

* * *

The trip to the Hinterlands was long and tiresome for Solas. They took most of Tal's inner circle, as well as two advisors: Leliana and Cullen. The spymaster coordinated the infiltration of Redcliffe castle, drilling select scouts for it. Cullen managed the soldiers accompanying them on the journey for protection, in case of an attack on the road, whether by the magister or Avvar again.

Their other companions were Cassandra, Varric, and Blackwall, all three of whom Solas got along with handily, although sometimes he picked on the Warden for information about his order. The last two members of their troupe were the ones he liked the least. The first was Dorian, whose flashiness and entitlement from a life of luxury grated Solas' nerves. Not to mention that fact that Dorian was from Tevinter, the human nation that posed such a headache to him because it was the most hostile place in Thedas for the People and simultaneously it was the best place for him to find ancient relics from Arlathan. And, possibly worst of all, Dorian actively sabotaged Tal's attempts at sobriety.

Then there was Sera, a so-called "Red Jenny." He might have respected her for undermining the nobility, but it seemed her actions were less constructive than petty. So in the end, she and her childish pranksters were mere distractions than anything else. But it was Sera's complete disregard and even her outright _disdain_ for the People that left him raw with dislike. She actively tried to irritate him, needling him with comments about how stupid elves were, or how much she feared and despised mages.

It was a wonder Tal got along with her, somehow, considering Solas knew the Herald did not share her sentiments. Yet, like Dorian, Sera also discouraged sobriety. Another reason he so disliked her.

"You're _boring_ when you're not drinking, Treeface," she said at dinner one night while they were still in the Frostbacks. She thrust out her wine bottle, grunting. "Take it! Take it! Can't _stand_ someone fun being _not_ fun."

Tal, seated beside Solas, tensed. "Um."

"What?" Sera asked, eyes too-wet and unfocused. "Dinnertime, yeah?" She shook the proffered wine bottle. "Take it, Treeface!"

Tal chuckled nervously and said, "That's what she said."

Solas sighed audibly as Blackwall, Sera, and Varric all laughed at this juvenile joke. Yet he was warm with relief as he saw Tal's joke made the archer lower the wine bottle, forgetting about the demand that he join her drinking.

"The Herald doesn't drink wine," Cassandra put in stiffly from across the fire. She sat beside Dorian, as if keeping the Tevinter under house arrest.

Dorian smirked at her and tweaked his mustache thoughtfully. "That's right, if I recall correctly, our Herald far prefers whiskey. Isn't that right?"

Now Tal grinned, a small blush spreading over his cheeks. "Yeah, actually. Good wine is great, but whiskey is always better." He leaned forward and waggled his eyebrows around Solas, aiming the expression for Varric, who seemingly always had whiskey like Solas always had books and magic.

"No," Solas told him gruffly. "Water or tea will suffice for this side of the fire." He wouldn't imbibe any tea of course, but sometimes supplementing Tal with some other flavored drink seemed to ease his cravings.

Tal let out a breath of frustration but said nothing as he continued to spoon more stew into his mouth. Sera, however, was far from content with this response. "What? Frigging _water?"_ She blew out a noisy raspberry. "Like out the lake? Sure, right. If you like piss taste and green slime."

"Enough," Cassandra scolded. "The Herald will have tea. Josephine provided plenty of teabags from Antiva."

"Which taste delightful with whiskey added to them," Dorian quipped, laughing. "Much better than algae water I should think." He eyed Tal across the fire, a mischievous glint in his eye, and made a show of turning to look around camp. "I don't see your mother flitting about anywhere. I think it's safe."

Tal chuckled, fidgeting with his hands. Sweat glistened on his brow, lit by the orange flames of their fire. The temptation was as obvious on his face as the branching patterns of his vallaslin.

" _Do not give in,"_ Solas chastened him, using elven. _"Please."_

Tal shot him a mournful look that warped into a glare before that too changed into misery. He sat upright more from his hunched posture and snapped, "I'm not having wine or whiskey so that's enough. Stop asking me to drink."

"Ugh," Sera whined. "You're no fun, Treeface." She gestured at Solas. "It's Droopy Ears' fault, innit? Borsa-"she said using her unkind nickname for Rosa-"isn't here but Droopy Ears is." She made an exaggerated gag of disgust. "What's your idea of fun, eh? Just shove your dumb face in a book about _Elvhen glory!_ " She giggled. "Bet ya yank off to that shite."

Solas glared at her across the fire, biting his tongue to say nothing.

"Enough," Tal said, harder this time.

Sera groaned but didn't fight him anymore. Blackwall seemed relieved the bickering was over while Dorian appeared unbothered either way as he drank more wine. Varric remained engrossed in feverishly writing something while Cassandra bore a small smile, proud of Tal for his self-control. Solas, for his part, stayed silent and returned to the Tevinter tome he'd spent weeks translating, though trying to read it in the uneven and oddly-colored light of the fire was fast giving him a headache.

Tal withdrew into himself, not participating much in the following conversation. Solas knew the young elf likely resented him for the babysitting, but it was undoubtedly needed. Cassandra wouldn't attend to him as thoroughly, though she did try to dissuade him whenever the temptation arose and she happened to be nearby. But for Solas it was a priority, a duty he took on both for Tal's wellbeing and for Rosa's peace of mind.

He spent most of his evenings trying to shepherd Tal away from this sort of temptation, and at night he slipped into the Fade to visit with Rosa and update her. They remained affectionate with each other, but held back from more. Yet, agonizingly, Solas struggled with unrelenting desire that then gave way to tortuous guilt. He needed to confess the truth to her of who he was and what he had done, but doing so would almost certainly make her turn from him. If he were truly unlucky she would disparage him to Tal and the whole of the Inquisition, too. He would lose Rosa, Tal, the Anchor, and Eliana all in one terrible blow.

How could she not hate him when she knew the truth? Even just a fraction of it—that he was the great adversary of her people—was sure to make her spurn him. And the awful truth only got worse beyond a simple, _"I am the Dread Wolf."_ After that he'd have to tell her about the Veil and that _he_ destroyed their people. _He_ made them age. _He_ robbed them of magic. _He_ let his orb slip into enemy hands. _He_ was responsible for the Conclave. And, last but certainly not least, he killed her father about a year ago.

When he let himself consider all these obstacles it made him feel physically ill and kept him from the Fade. He had to consciously push those thoughts away to fall asleep or, when that effort failed, dose himself with herbs that left him groggy the next morning.

It was in that groggy haze that he accompanied Tal into Redcliffe castle to meet Magister Alexius. Cassandra accompanied them as well, the muscle backup for the mages. Blackwall, Dorian, Sera, and Varric all went with Leliana's scouts to infiltrate the castle in secret.

After a brief argument with a servant who met them just inside the castle, Tal and Cassandra convinced the Venatori to escort them all to see Alexius. The meeting took place in an ugly hall, full of grotesquely shaped dogs in stone. A fire roared in the hearth as Alexius greeted them from his throne, flanked by Venatori and his son Felix.

Having not attended the original meeting in Redcliffe with the rebel mages, this was the first time Solas had seen Felix. He admired the young man, knowing it took great courage for anyone, human, elven, or dwarf—he'd count the Qunari but this never seemed to happen amongst them—to defy their superiors, or their parents, to do what they knew was right inside. It was a shame Felix was dying of Blight. Had Solas been able to volunteer his knowledge without it causing far too many questions, he'd have offered to end this mess by trying to cure Felix, as it became apparent quickly once Dorian appeared that this whole charade was done so that Alexius could cure Felix.

The trap seemed to be going exceptionally well, right up until Alexius realized his Venatori in the hall had been killed by Leliana's newly-emerged scouts. Then the Magister curled his lip and frantically dug into his clothes to pull out a silvery amulet on a chain.

"You are a mistake," Alexius snarled as magic built.

The strange magic set Solas' skin tingling and any fatigue from moments ago vanished as adrenaline flooded his veins. His heart hammered as he reached for his staff with one hand while the other frantically shaped mana, prepping a dispel.

But Dorian moved first, hurling a wedge of spirit magic to counter Alexius' amulet. Solas knew immediately by the feel of it that the spell was only to disorient the magister and Felix. The fool Tevinter still didn't want to kill his countrymen when the very world was at stake.

The spell hit Alexius, making him fumble the shining talisman, which still glinted and hummed with powerful magic Solas had never encountered before. It flew away, down from the dais and toward their group, where Dorian and Tal stood closest and—

With a _whump-pop_ a greenish ball of light and something that could almost have been Fade ether appeared in the space where Tal and Dorian stood. It rippled and spun like a whirlpool, dazzling and beautiful—and deadly. Despite thousands of years of experience, Solas had never seen its like before. He found himself equally parts horrified and fascinated as he stared, dumbfounded.

And then, suddenly, the spell failed and vanished with a flicker. In the aftermath, horror completely replaced any intellectual curiosity as Solas realized both their Herald and the Tevinter had vanished. There was a scorch mark on the floor and maybe a bit of dust but there was otherwise no trace of either mage.

"No!" Cassandra shouted, drawing her sword. She lunged forward to attack the magister and Felix. Alexius swiftly tossed barriers over himself and his son, then countered by casting winter's grasp to slow the Seeker down.

Too late to dispel it or shield Cassandra, Solas shook himself and tossed barriers up over his people and then hurled Fade stone at Alexius. Felix lurched in front of his father, shouting frantically for a ceasefire on both sides. No one listened and an instant later Felix's barrier took the full brunt of Solas' Fade stone. It destroyed his barrier, popping it like a soap bubble. The barrier was enough it turned the stone to shrapnel and slowed its forward momentum. Yet it was still enough to knock Felix prone—unconscious.

Alexius roared with rage at seeing his son knocked aside. He sent fireballs at Solas, but Solas countered them with a powerful barrier that absorbed everything. And, a second later, Blackwall charged past to engage the magister. The mage and the Warden faced off, trading blows, dodging, and countering.

Varric and Sera added their arrows to the mix and soon one caught Alexius between barrier refreshes, piercing his shoulder. He stumbled back toward the throne, ducking behind it as more arrows flew and Blackwall rushed at him with his shield.

But then Venatori surged through the door behind. Enemy arrows flew. Some struck Solas' barrier, making it buzz as they fell away harmlessly. A rogue Venatori appeared suddenly and lunged at Solas with a knife. His barrier failed and the blade slashed in, catching Solas on the forearm.

Hissing with pain, Solas Fade-stepped through the rogue, freezing him solid. He shattered a second later when Solas rematerialized behind the Venatori archers with a flourish of his arms. He turned in time to see the tide had turned tragically against the Inquisition.

An arrow found a gap in Blackwall's armor, impacting him in the neck. The Warden stumbled, gagging and grabbing at his throat as he drowned in his own arterial spray.

Cassandra, free of the slowing effects of winter's grasp, rushed in to try and kill Alexius. The magister used a well-timed mindblast to knock her back and she stumbled, falling unluckily against the throne in the center of the dais. Her head thumped against an armrest with an awful crack. She didn't rise or move from where she fell.

Varric and Sera were both fighting several melee Venatori. When one brought the butt of his sword down on Varric's temple the dwarf collapsed like a sack of potatoes to the floor. Sera bared her teeth in a rage, nocking another arrow and another, but the Venatori before her had shields and had the greater numbers. She was doomed.

"Surrender, Inquisition!" Alexius shouted from the front of the room, breath puffing with exertion. "Surrender and you…"

Solas didn't hear the rest of it as one of the archers turned and sent an arrow streaking straight for his head. It deflected off Solas' barrier and—in a split second decision—Solas took on invisibility and wheeled for the door. His mind was full of Rosa and Eliana, his heart aching with horror and shock at how suddenly things had changed.

Without Tal and the Anchor he could not hope to stabilize the Veil or stop Corypheus with any speed. The so-called Elder One would bring ruin and horror to Thedas in the coming months and the next year or so. But just as when he left Mythal behind, even knowing she would probably be killed, Solas had to consider the long-term. If he was captured here he could never hope to reshape this world or counter the Elder One.

The Inquisition was always a tool as much as it was cover for Solas' broader plans. His chest was tight with grief and his throat ached, but he had no shame as he fled the castle and hurried for the Frostbacks. Without Tal it would be harder to stop Corypheus, but not impossible. The Darkspawn Magister did not know what he began when he tore the Veil asunder. As it weakened, all elves would grow more powerful.

And Solas needed to be alive to lead them and then, eventually, face both Corypheus and the Evanuris.

Hopefully he would have Rosa at his side.

* * *

Tal's stomach felt as though it inverted itself, twisting wildly. He splashed into sour smelling water and immediately began to retch. Blinded by the splashes and hampered by the sudden vomiting, he couldn't right himself or reach for his weapon as another splash landed next to him. A quick glance between heaves made him relax as he recognized Dorian.

The Tevinter mage stood upright quickly, sneering with disgust at their surroundings and the filthy water around their calves. "Well," he said, "I didn't see that coming."

Tal gagged again, spitting bile and acid into the water and cringing against the splash-back. So much for that good breakfast of eggs he enjoyed that morning. He shook, breathing raggedly as he tried to swallow another bout of retching.

Dorian lingered nearby, alert but also shooting him worried glances. "Are you all right, Herald?"

Tal wasn't sure he was. His stomach twisted again dangerously and he choked, trying hard not to vomit. He finished with spitting, trying to clear chunks of partly digested breakfast from the corners of his mouth. Something was…strange. Wrong. His body tingled in a way that wasn't unpleasant and his blood was hot. It was like being drunk except his mind was _too_ sharp. And there were strange hissing whispers in his ears, half-understood snatches of phrases.

Water sloshed as Dorian walked closer to him. A moment later he laid a hand on Tal's shoulder. "Herald?"

Still breathing roughly, Tal hauled himself up out of his slouched retching pose. He gripped Dorian's forearm when he wobbled a little and then quickly released it. "Sorry."

Dorian's brow furrowed with concern. "You look…" He grimaced. "How do I say this…delicately? Bad. Yes. You look like the peasants in Minrathous after a weeklong tavern crawl celebrating Satinalia." The other mage summoned mana for healing, his palms glowing white-gold as he reached out and laid a hand on Tal's shoulder. "Did Alexius hit you with some kind of spirit-wasting spell perchance?"

Tal shivered at Dorian's healing magic, but they could both feel that it returned to Dorian unused. Yet something was definitely not right. Tal blinked, swallowing the ongoing queasiness, and gazed about the room they'd landed in. He scowled as he saw red lyrium crystals. "Where the fuck are we?"

Letting his magic fade and dropping his hand to his side, Dorian said, "A very good question." He walked a short ways away, staring at the walls, sniffing. "Displacement. It's probably not what Alexius intended. The rift must have moved us to…what? The closest confluence of arcane energy?"

Tal fazed out Dorian's mumbling and started walking the length of the room toward the door. The walls were cracked, allowing water to spill in. Red lyrium crystals grew in places along the wall, like weeds. Tal steered clear of them, frowning. The whispers in his ears didn't seem to increase or decrease as he moved to or away from the blasted stuff. He shook his head, trying to clear it. His ears were thick, as though he'd been diving and had gotten water in them.

"Of course!" Dorian exclaimed then, standing up and turning toward Tal. "It's not _where,_ it's _when!_ Alexius' rift sent us through _time."_

Feeling nauseous even more at this idea, Tal groaned. He gripped his belly and doubled over, one hand on his knee. "Fuuuuuck."

"It's not as bad as that," Dorian said, his tone reassuring. "If we can find the amulet Alexius used I'm sure I can send us back where and _when_ we came from. I think the amulet he used is the same one we developed together in Minrathous."

Concentrating on breathing, Tal didn't answer. His mind was spinning. When he felt the floor rumble at first he thought it was his own mind hallucinating. Yet when the water sloshed and rippled he realized it must not be in his head after all. Loose stones and dust fell from the walls, splashing. Tal used one arm to try and shield himself as the tremor continued.

Dorian jerked, spinning to look around. "I think we had better get out of here before the roof collapses on us." He walked over to Tal and gingerly gripped him around his back. "Can you walk, Herald?"

"Not much choice," Tal said and let Dorian partly support him as they made their way out of the partially flooded chamber.

They walked through the dungeons, finding decay and rot and water trickling everywhere. It churned Tal's stomach and they had to stop so he could dry heave once. When they ran across a skeleton wearing rags and still coated by putrid skin, Tal recoiled as though struck by a physical blow. A voice cried out in his mind, tormented, miserable, and agonized.

" _Kill me! Make it stop!"_

Dorian scrambled to keep him upright as Tal backed away in a frantic scrabble. When he bumped into a wall, hands over his ears, Tal screamed and flinched from it before realizing it wasn't a threat. He couldn't retreat any further. The distance he'd achieved from the skeleton did nothing to quiet the pitiful screaming and crying. _"Please,"_ a man's voice begged. _"Kill me! Send me home to the Maker. I can't take it anymore!"_

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," Tal repeated in an endless mantra until he was shouting it, trying to hear his own voice over the one screaming in his head. He barely felt it as Dorian slapped him across the face.

"Herald! Snap out of it! Keep your voice down!"

Tal glimpsed Dorian's fear and irritation and tried to calm his breathing as he realized the Tevinter mage couldn't hear the screams. _Great,_ Tal thought, _I'm just insane, apparently._

Somehow Dorian dragged him past the corpse. The next thing Tal knew the voice had quieted enough that the other whispers returned, annoying rather than overwhelming. Now that he could think a little, Tal asked, "You didn't hear the screaming?"

"I heard _you_ screaming," Dorian muttered.

They were walking up a stair to another level when the floor rumbled with another tremor and a distant explosion boomed somewhere. Stone cracked on the wall, making Tal yelp and scramble to reach the top. Dorian hurried to keep up.

There was no sign of soldiers, Venatori or otherwise as they left the deeper dungeon. They passed more bodies inside cells, festering where they had died. Left to rot. Except that Tal could still hear their pitiful cries. He heard them pleading with him to end their pain or tell him about loved ones, or carry messages and final words they were too weak to utter in life. Dorian had to drag him past each corpse as Tal doubled over, struggling not to dry heave and holding back his own blubbering, hysterical sobs at just the echo of the suffering endured here.

It was only a small mercy when they reached a cell with a living person in it. Overrun and glowing crimson with red lyrium crystals, Grand Enchanter Fiona stood trapped, leaning against a wall, dying in slow motion. Seeing her made Tal feel sick with sympathy—but it was a normal kind of reaction, not whatever plagued him around corpses. He fought to concentrate as Dorian spoke with Fiona, but the frantic whispers in his mind continued unabated and it was hard to hear the Grand Enchanter over them.

"You're alive? How? I saw you disappear into the rift."

"Alexius didn't kill us," Dorian told her, reassuringly. "He simply sent us forward through time. An accident, I think, but a fortuitous one." He leaned closer to the bars of her cell. "Can you tell us the date? It's very important."

As Fiona replied, telling them it was about a year since they vanished, Tal turned and stumbled toward the corner, groaning. This funk he was in was… _awful._ Worse than any hangover. What the fuck was wrong with him? He couldn't _think._ He could barely walk, talk, or breathe. And now he had to deal with being gone _a year?!_ He couldn't look at Fiona, couldn't stand to imagine the pain she must be in, that everyone in this castle suffered. He was already wretched enough just living within his own skin.

Before he knew what was happening Dorian had finished speaking with Fiona and shepherded him out of this wing of the dungeon. "What's wrong with you, Herald?" the other mage pressed, gripping him around the waist to support him. Tal felt the warm, pleasurable tingle of Dorian's magic sinking into his skin, attempting a different healing spell. They both felt the mana flow back out again, unused.

"Have you been poisoned?" Dorian asked, his voice strained with fear. "Did you swallow red lyrium in the first cell after we exited the rift?"

 _Fenedhis,_ he prayed not. Unfortunately he didn't have a good answer to Dorian's question and used most of his energy just walking and breathing. Talking was a luxury he couldn't really manage just now.

The stone walls and floor shook again, rumbling menacingly. Grit and dust fell on them from overhead. Dorian winced, cursing under his breath. _"Kaffas._ Is this area prone to quakes?"

Tal didn't know, but he didn't think it was an earthquake. The tremors felt more like impacts to the stone. Somewhere above them. He tried to hurry despite his constant bellyache and the voices crying out in anguish in his head.

They reached another dungeon where they found Cassandra, poisoned with red lyrium, glowing crimson. She was praying as they found her and took some convincing before she accepted they weren't dead, but once she understood the situation she readily joined them. As she donned her armor, sword, and shield, which had been left in a corner to rust, she explained the events of the last year that they had missed.

First Alexius' master, the "Elder One" summoned an army of demons. Then he assassinated Empress Celene, plunging Orlais into chaos. Cassandra overheard the guards laughing about the Inquisition falling apart shortly after that. For the last three months, however, she'd heard hushed whispers of something different—a new threat to the Elder One.

"Who could it be?" Dorian asked. "With Orlais gone did Ferelden and the Free Marches join up, perhaps?"

"No," Cassandra said as she cinched up her belt. "The guards have no name for them. I've heard them say they are fighting elves and mages, but I do not see how that can be. The Grand Enchanter's people were poisoned with red lyrium and most of them have long since died. It could not be the rebel mages. And the Dalish are scattered and disorganized and too few to be a threat to the Elder One." Her gaze was somber as she looked to Tal, as though wishing she didn't have to be so frank about how unlikely it was his people could be a threat to anyone, let alone the Elder One.

"How intriguing," Dorian said, humming with interest like this was a curious riddle to be solved.

Tal fought to listen through his ongoing illness, but didn't have the energy to ask Cassandra what he wanted to know. Perhaps that was best because his questions were all self-centered and selfish. He wanted to to know what she'd heard of his sister, or of his little niece. Even Revas' fate was a mystery. Was he in the castle dungeons here, too?

Cassandra strapped her shield to her back. "I did not expect I would ever leave that cell," she said, her voice warbling a little with emotion. "But with your help and by Andraste's grace I will have a chance to fight for the Maker and for His world again. Thank you."

She frowned then, noting Tal's hunched over posture and his silence. "Herald? Are you all right?"

Tal let out a groan and half-shrugged, only to swallow hard as that set his diaphragm off in a spasm, threatening to make him dry heave again. Dorian answered for him. "He's…not felt well since we got here. I think the time travel may disagree with his constitution. The magic involved is complex and Alexius and I…may have calculated it for _humans._ We would never expect an elf to use the amulet."

That seemed as good an explanation as any, but Tal still frowned at the Tevinter. The casual racism of these magisters…ugh.

The room shook again, trembling. Somewhere, distantly, they heard shouts of alarm.

"That seems to happen a lot here," Dorian said. "Perhaps the mysterious mages you mentioned are attacking the castle right now?"

Cassandra's look was dire. "We should hurry out of here before the walls collapse."

"My thoughts exactly," Dorian agreed. He moved over to Tal, stooping to help him. Tal accepted the other mage's help and they took off.

They speedily searched the remaining cells, finding Varric and Sera. Both of them had also been poisoned with red lyrium. Sera was sad and obsessed with remembering a poem while Varric was in surprisingly good spirits. It seemed Alexius' people were experimenting on the different races with red lyrium. Cassandra was their test subject for humans, while Sera was their elf, and Varric their dwarf. Blackwall they learned was killed the day Alexius sent them forward in time and so never wound up trapped here.

And Revas had escaped capture. Leliana also evaded the Venatori that day, though she was taken later during the Inquisition's final assault on Redcliffe castle some months ago.

"My sister," Tal finally choked out, grimacing at the foul smell of bile on his breath. "What about her?"

"I've heard nothing of her, Herald," Cassandra said, her expression regretful. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sure she's fine, Stoic," Varric said, clearly trying to bolster his spirits. "If any group of people could survive this shit storm it'd be the Dalish. The Elder One's armies wouldn't be able to chase your people down."

Tal wasn't so sure about that, and judging by Cassandra's continued sad look he guessed she thought Varric was full of nugshit. Heartwarming nugshit, but still nugshit all the same.

He nodded at Varric and swallowed, still fighting with his stomach. He pushed any thoughts of his sister, Eliana, or Revas aside, reminding himself that this future would be destroyed just as soon as he and Dorian reached Alexius and returned to the past. If Rosa, Eliana, and Revas were all dead somewhere outside this castle it was better not to consider it. He had to focus on stopping all this…

And not dying from puking his guts up. Or going outright insane from the incessant screaming inside his head.

They left the dungeons at long last, Tal hobbling and holding his stomach, cringing whenever they passed a corpse as the lifeless body screamed inside his skull. Dorian supported him, half-dragging him up to the next level where they found a grated floor over a large natural chasm. Water roared in the depths. A raised drawbridge kept the dungeons isolated from the rest of the castle. There were no guards in sight.

As another temblor cut through the earth, making the suspended floor creak dangerously, Dorian let out a little high-pitched laugh. "It seems no one knows we're here and no one cares. I'd say that gives us the advantage, but I'm starting to worry we'll wind up crushed before we can reach Alexius." He motioned at the raised catwalk. "Any ideas?"

Tal gazed at the raised bridge, breathing hard through his bellyache. "We might…pull it down? Together?" It was a bit of a stretch, but might be worth a shot. Most mages could do a bit of telekinesis, moving objects with raw spirit magic. Spirit magic wasn't Tal's favorite school, but he was proficient enough he was sure, with enough concentration through his strange illness, he could give Dorian enough strength to manage it.

"A little spirit magic," Dorian said, understanding him with a nod. He waggled his fingers at the raised catwalk. "If it's not secured _too_ much on the far side it should work."

"Buttercup and I could shoot arrows at the control mechanism," Varric suggested. "Do you have any rope, Seeker?"

Cassandra shook her head, frowning. The red haze around her moved with her, making Tal look away with sympathy.

"All right," Dorian said, stepping away from Tal and eyeing him worriedly. "Let's give this a try, shall we?"

Tal nodded only to stagger. Sera moved in, offering him support. She grunted. "Got you, Treeface."

Tal tried not to grimace at her nearness, fearing the haze of red lyrium. "Thanks," he mumbled.

Dorian lifted his hands, narrowing his eyes, and reached out toward the distant gangway. The bridge glowed an eerie green and the metal of the chains supporting it tinkled and groaned. "A little help, Herald," Dorian said through the corner of his mouth, voice strained. "It's heavier than it looks."

Squaring his shoulders, Tal reached for his mana core and gasped as it struck him how _huge_ it was. The pleasurable bubbling inside his blood pounded fiercely, a dizzying difference from the ongoing pain and nausea plaguing him. His concentration scattered and he doubled over, dry-heaving.

Dorian let the magic die and hurried back to Tal, shooing Sera with a wave of his hand. Grabbing Tal by the shoulders, he pulled him upright, meeting his eye. "I need you to concentrate, Herald, or we're going wind up smooshed when this cavern collapses."

Ominously, the tremor came again, along with the rumble of a distant explosion. The roar of the water changed, pulsating from the force. As the others gazed around, stiff and wary of ceiling collapse, Tal turned inward and fought to wrest control of his mana. It was enormous, many sizes larger than it should be. Casting extremely hard and mana-expensive spells wouldn't be difficult, except Tal couldn't concentrate through his gut pain and the screams still ringing in his ears that no one else could hear. If he couldn't concentrate, he couldn't shape spells. It no longer mattered how much mana he had at that point.

Then, suddenly, the drawbridge clattered. The chains tinkled as they moved through the gears. The bridge fell into place with a metallic bang. The party stared in astonishment at this turn of events. The catwalk had dropped seemingly of its own accord—or wait….

Tal saw a figure standing near the door on the far platform. It wasn't a Venatori or one of Alexius' men. The figure wore a large round hat and clothes made of patchwork leather. When he lifted his head Tal saw pale skin and blond hair peaking out under the enormous hat.

"Thank the Maker," Cassandra said, sagging with relief. She started forward. Sera and Varric followed. All of them moved with postures suggesting they saw no danger.

"Wait," Tal called as Dorian started to turn him to walk toward the downed drawbridge. His heart hammered, frantic. "There's a man…"

"What?" Dorian asked.

"A man," Tal stammered, pointing toward the figure standing beside the catwalk's crank. The man wore dark clothing and blended in very well with the shadows there but Tal could still see him with ease. Dorian stared after Tal's pointing finger and frowned. His eyes flicked over the far platform, skipping past the figure multiple times. "He's right there," Tal insisted, finger shaking.

The man on the far platform made eye contact with Tal. He seemed surprised, lips parting. He looked at Cassandra, Sera, and Varric, a touch of fear coloring his face. But the warrior and the two archers weren't staring back at him. Instead they gazed worriedly at Tal, as though he'd gone insane.

Tal clapped his mouth shut. _They don't see him. They can't see him._ Maybe he _was_ insane.

"We need to hurry," Dorian told him in an urgent whisper. "There's no one there, Herald. Come along."

Tal let Dorian take most of his weight and walk him toward the bridge. Cassandra, Varric, and Sera marched to the far side and opened the door to more stairs leading up. They walked right past the man at the crank, who watched them only briefly before returning his stare to Tal.

As Dorian and Tal walked past the man at the crank the shadowy figure fell in step behind them. "You can see me," he said, sounding both surprised and awed. "I'm glad. My name's Cole. I'm here to help."

Tal twisted his head, fingers flicking as he tried hard to reach for his core, to make it bend to his will so he could cast a barrier. Gritting his teeth through the pain, Tal just managed to toss one over himself and Dorian.

The Tevinter glanced at him, brow furrowed with confusion. "Herald? Are you still seeing…well, whatever it was you saw back there."

"He's following us," Tal said, breathing roughly as more pain cut through his stomach. "I'm telling you the truth."

"I'm not here to hurt you," the man, 'Cole,' said. "I came to help."

Tal groaned and faced forward. "Fuck," he said. "I really am losing my Creators-damned mind."

As the barrier Tal cast faded Dorian refreshed it. "Let's worry about that later, shall we?"

The recasting of the barrier made Tal heave a sigh of relief. Dorian might not entirely believe there was a threat, but he wasn't confident Tal was insane, either. Or he was just a kind soul and didn't want to make Tal feel any worse than he already did.

"It's both," Cole whispered from behind them. "He's worried for you."

 _Great,_ Tal thought, scowling. _He reads minds._ That made him a demon, probably.

"I'm not a demon," Cole protested. "I'm Cole. I came to help."

"Leliana!" Cassandra shouted ahead as she burst through a closed interrogation room up ahead.

"Cassandra," a weary voice replied.

Dorian picked up the pace, taking Tal with him into the interrogation room. Cole, whoever or whatever he was, stayed outside. Sera and Varric quickly checked the room for supplies as Dorian tried to explain his plan to the spymaster. Leliana stared at Tal doubtfully and Tal shamefully let his eyes drop to the floor. These people, this world, were all suffering terribly for his absence. Or rather, the mark's absence. Leliana was bitter with Dorian, and rightly so. The suave Tevinter mage considered this whole thing a curiosity. It wasn't _real_ to him.

When an especially large boom resounded somewhere above them, making the walls shake and showering them with dust and specks of debris, Cassandra asked, "Do you know what's happening out there, Leliana?"

"No. The Elder One crushed Ferelden's army months ago. That's the last I know." The spymaster, wrinkled and wizened with Blight, took up her bow and quiver from a corner.

Tal noticed torture tools lying on the table, many of them stained with blood. Leliana had quite recently been tortured here and left strung up by her arms, which was how Cassandra found her when she entered this room.

"Whoever it is," Dorian said glibly, "it sounds like they're giving the Elder One a spot of trouble. Unless you think what we're hearing is this Elder One's armies smashing the enemies to bits?"

From outside the door Cole spoke softly, yet somehow Tal still heard him with perfect clarity. "It's the wolf. He's here to save you. He's here for the end."

Tal strained against Dorian's supportive arm, trying to see outside the door. "What in the great beyond...?" he muttered. _Wolf?_

"Herald?" Dorian asked him.

With the Tevinter supporting him their faces were very close together. Tal winced, thinking about how repulsive he must look and smell. Creators bless Dorian for putting up with him. "Never mind…"

"Herald," Leliana said, fully equipped now. "We should move while the Venatori and the Elder One are distracted."

"Yes," Dorian agreed, smirking mirthlessly. "Preferably before the whole castle implodes from whatever's happening out there."

Tal nodded miserably and clung onto Dorian as they hurried out, heading up. They reached a gloomy cavern that held a hidden dock. Water dribbled musically. The air was damp and smelled foul. They came upon the remnants of some kind of blood magic ritual. Crimson smears and offal lay scattered over a crudely drawn summoning circle.

"Blood magic," Dorian growled, covering his face with one hand in disgust.

The scent of the blood churned Tal's stomach, but he fought off the wave of nausea. But what he _couldn't_ fight was the sudden ear-shattering, bloodcurdling screaming inside his ears.

" _No! No, please! No! Don't do it!"_ a man cried desperately, pleading with some unseen assailant. And then Tal felt the man's attention shift, as though he somehow saw Tal and knew he could hear him while no one else could. _"Please, tell my beautiful Annette I'm sorry. Tell her I never should have joined up with the chevaliers! Please, can you tell her that? You're the only one who can!"_

"Oh fuck," Tal cursed and tore away from Dorian's supportive arm, staggering toward the water. His stomach looped over on itself, twisting with pain. He doubled over, heaving even though nothing came out. His throat hurt. His lungs hurt. _Everything_ hurt. His ears rang. His head swam. "Shut up! Shut up!" he shouted at the top of his voice, desperate to speak overtop of the pleading and screaming echoing in his head.

"Herald!" someone shouted behind him, alarmed. "Herald, look out!"

Tal couldn't have 'looked out' even if he wanted to. The only thing he felt was agony. He struggled not to topple off the concrete into the murky water of this underground lake. Dimly, Tal felt his skin tingling with magic, but he didn't care why that was or where it came from.

The water sloshed, rippling with vibrations. The ground beneath Tal's feet rumbled dangerously. He hoped the ceiling did finally cave in on him, if only it would end the roaring in his ears that so tangled his guts with horror. It would be a relief to just be dead rather than dying or insane or both.

And then, abruptly, he felt a cool hand on his shoulder and sensed a presence to his left. "It's all right," said the whispery voice of the strange demon-boy who called himself Cole. Long fingers squeezed his shoulder and the voices clawing at his ears and at the inside of his skull quieted into a dull whine he could push aside. Tal breathed slower, head drooping with the first bit of relief he'd had in what felt like years.

"You're not crazy," Cole told him, softly. "It's always hard at first. It gets easier. Like learning to walk."

Tal's knees went rubbery and he shifted, dropping into a sitting position at the edge of the concrete. The water still rippled and sloshed. Splashes rang out, echoing through the large cavern. He found the strength somehow to lift his head and blinked as he saw stones careening from overhead. Sharp stalactites had fallen from the cavern roof, shaken loose by the tremors. They splashed in the water of the underground lake, sending tall waves to lash the concrete. The boats along the dock bobbed up and down violently.

"He can teach you to control it," Cole said. "But you have to get up."

Tal nodded, even though he didn't know who _he_ was. Before he could rise the lake water splashed up and lashed over him. Spluttering weakly, Tal started trying to stand—but footsteps behind him thumped over the platform and strong hands grasped him under the arms. He groaned as he found himself upright and clinging to Dorian again. "Thanks," he croaked out.

A mixture of fear and worry pinched Dorian's features. "Don't mention it," he replied hurriedly as he pivoted Tal around and pulled him away from the edge of the platform. Oddly, the Tevinter mage's eyes kept darting to one side and straight up. Tal followed his gaze to the side and forgot to breathe with shock.

Behind where Tal had been sitting moments ago, just out of his sight, was a figure in silver armor—and not just any armor. It was _Elvhenan_ armor, the kind Tal saw his father wear in dreams. A black wolf pelt was draped over one shoulder and a gray cloak with a large hood covered its face and head. It stood side-on to Tal and Dorian with one arm outstretched toward the ceiling.

That was what finally drew Tal's eyes upward and he gasped, his knees weak all over again and his stomach dropping to the floor.

A green-gold glow formed a dome above them, like glass, except it was clearly magic. As small stones fell from the roof they impacted the dome barrier and bounced off it in slow motion. The barrier didn't fluctuate or break in the slightest. The stones sailed smoothly away several meters in impossible slowness, languid and lazy. Then, abruptly, they fell hard and fast once they were a certain distance away and splashed loudly in the lake.

A large stalactite fell then and Tal flinched, heart pounding with the instinct to flee—but the jagged rock hit the dome and bounced away harmlessly, just as the small stones did. Leliana, Cassandra, Sera, Varric, and Dorian all gawped together, weapons in hand but lowered harmlessly to their sides as they stared slack-jawed at this wonder.

Cole moved from the edge of the platform where Tal had sat and stood beside the figure in Elvhen armor. The pale boy appeared haggard and anxious. "You promised," he said. "You promised him not to."

The figure moved slightly, clenching its fist. The dome over them crackled with magical energy, green iridescent mist flowing from it for an instant before the translucent barrier turned opaque and then went completely black. It was stone now, Tal realized, gawking anew.

And then a female voice said, _"Da'isamalin."_

Tal dropped his gaze down to the figure and now, suddenly, recognition hit him like Fade stone as the elf turned toward him, letting him see beneath its cloak. Bronzed skin, dark hair, and violet eyes in familiar shapes.

His eyes flooded with tears. "Rosa?"

* * *

 **Next Chapter**

"The healer has the bloodiest hands," Cole said, ignoring her. "You can't heal a wound without knowing how deep it goes. You can't heal pain by hiding it."

"I know that saying," Tal piped up and then cringed when Rosa glared at him. "What?"

Her expression softened then and she turned away just as the glint of tears formed in her eyes. "Not now. Later. Before the end."

"Well," Tal said, letting out a short laugh that he immediately regretted when it made his diaphragm spasm and he had to swallow the urge to dry heave. When he regained control again he said, "That wasn't ominous at all, _asamalin."_

* * *

 _Ahhhhh!_ I know, what a cliffhanger. The best part is while I was proofreading this with my Solavellan playlist on "Trespasser-Dark Solas Theme" came on and I was like OMG! PERFECT! THE FEELS!

So, just like in RST, this dark future is nuanced and shit is real here and tons of terrible things have happened. I spent a long time plotting out what happened off screen, but you're only getting the hints of that here. The bulk of it will come next chapter. I am going to break canon so hard, mine and traditional DA's. Anyway, sorry, excited!

Thank you Frogbutton for reviewing so loyally! Like I said in RST, I don't deserve you! LOL. The role-reversal has been so much fun to write and warp my own canon with Rosa and Tal. It's going to hit the fan next chapter!

Thank you Cookie! Great seeing you again! Hope your holiday was grand! I have been waiting to do Redcliffe 2.0 as you put it for a while now! It just rushed out of me, so I have a whole other chapter complete after this one. And I do enjoy exposing more of Tal and putting him through this wringer to see how he comes out of it. It also changes Rosa a lot, softening her because she's a mother and has to put her leadership self second. But Rogathe like mucks poor Tal's personality up, too.

So I think because this is a cliffy I will update this story next week. That gives me a little longer to catch up on Rosa. Then I'll do the alternating thing again going forward.


	11. Hushed Whispers Part 2: Rosa

**Eleven**

Hushed Whispers Part 2: Rosa

* * *

A heavy, sad smile spread over his sister's lips and, without knowing where the strength came from, Tal let go of Dorian and lunged for her. They collided in an embrace. He shook with weakness from the strange illness plaguing him and Rosa took his weight easily, but he felt her trembling too and heard her let out a choked sob.

Pulling back from her, Tal shook his head in consternation. "How are you here? Are you okay?" He blinked repeatedly, trying to clear his eyes of tears, but they kept coming. He sniffled and let out a weak, croaking laugh. "I'm so glad you're alive!"

Rosa's eyes were red-rimmed and tears dotted her cheeks. Her smile quaked. "I didn't think this day would come," she said, hiccupping as she clearly had to hold back sobs. "I thought you were dead for months." Her brow furrowed and her voice cracked. "I buried you with clan Manaria in the Free Marches. It broke my heart—but then Imshael told us you would be back and we—"

Tal frowned, confused. "What? Who? Who's _we?"_

Rosa shut her mouth, visibly withdrawing. She tilted her head to one side, noticing the others seemingly for the first time. Her jaw squared and her expression hardened. "Cole," she said in an aside to the strange, pale boy standing just out of arm's reach. _"You can make them all forget?"_ she asked in elven.

"Yes," Cole said, barely breathing the word.

She nodded. "Good."

"What?" Tal asked, grimacing as pain cut through his stomach again. He hunched over, breathing slow and deliberate, waiting for the cramp to pass.

"He needs Pride," Cole said in a rush, stepping closer. _"Lethanavir_ is awake inside him now. It was sleeping, but the rift shook it awake. I did what I could to help."

Both Tal and Rosa turned to look at the boy, frowning. Yet while Tal continued being confused by that comment, Rosa's eyes widened with understanding. Her hands on Tal's shoulders tightened. "Have you been hearing the dead?"

Tal recoiled, his stomach twisting. "I've been hearing shit no one else can and it's louder than a high-dragon. Is that the dead?"

"I think so, yes. I'm sorry," Rosa said, her eyes achingly sad. "There's so much I need to tell you and there's no time."

As if to punctuate what she said the rock dome overhead that she somehow manifested out of thin air rumbled and tiny bits of debris rained down on them. Dorian called out from behind them, "Ah, excuse me, but perhaps we could schedule this tender moment for a time when we're _not_ about to be buried alive? Yes?"

Rosa grabbed Tal's arm and slung it over her shoulder, halfway carrying him. He would have been ashamed of his weakness if he had the energy for that kind of emotion, but all he felt was gratitude as he relaxed. Rosa was here and she looked as healthy as Dorian, completely uninfected. Maybe even _more_ so, as there was something intangible about her that glowed. Whatever horrors awaited them, she would make everything right.

"We won't be smashed as long as I'm here," Rosa said to Dorian. "But we do need to hurry. The longer he delays the more of our people we lose in the distraction."

"Excuse me?" Dorian asked, perturbed as he followed behind Rosa and Tal. "What _distraction?_ Who is _he_ and what, pray tell, is he delaying, exactly?" He pressed closer, as if he hoped to support Tal's other side. "And who are _your_ people? The last I knew we left you at Haven with that baby of yours."

This made Rosa stop dead in her tracks. Tal lifted his head, looking to her in bafflement, but Rosa glared viciously past him toward the Tevinter. "Shut your mouth," she snarled. "How _dare_ you—" She cut herself off, facing forward and starting ahead again, faster now as though she would leave Dorian and the others behind.

"What's wrong?" Tal asked, mouth hanging open in perpetual shock. Something cold—dread and foreboding—lay in his stomach like a block of ice. The stony look on his sister's face was so intense he thought he didn't want an answer to his question. Fortunately, Rosa seemed deaf to it anyway.

From just behind them, Cole whispered, "He doesn't know. He didn't mean to hurt you."

"Enough, Cole," Rosa snarled over her shoulder.

"The healer has the bloodiest hands," Cole said, ignoring her. "You can't heal a wound without knowing how deep it goes. You can't heal pain by hiding it."

"I know that saying," Tal piped up and then cringed when Rosa glared at him. "What?"

Her expression softened then and she turned away just as the glint of tears formed in her eyes. "Not now. Later. Before the end."

"Well," Tal said, letting out a short laugh that he immediately regretted when it made his diaphragm spasm and he had to swallow the urge to dry heave. When he regained control again he said, "That wasn't ominous at all, _asamalin."_

"This whole world is ominous, Tal," she chastened him. "I know you don't feel well but surely you've noticed that."

" _Creators,"_ he said rolling his eyes. "You're such a downer. It could be worse—You're not infected for one thing. And you're alive. So as far as I'm concerned things are looking up s—" He broke off then, realizing with a jolt of shock that her cheeks were bare. Her vallaslin was gone. "Your face," he said. "The vallaslin…?"

Rosa frowned. "Don't worry about that right now."

"Excuse me," Dorian butted in again, "but I need to get the Herald to Alexius. If we find the amulet he used to send us into the future then I'm sure I can send us back to the past. Then none of _this_ mess will have happened."

"We guessed you'd want to do that," Rosa said, cold and blank.

"We?" Dorian parroted, still frustrated and confused—much like Tal, but without the same absolute trust. "And _how_ could you know that was our plan?"

Rosa ignored him and stopped before a set of double doors, lifting her hand, palm out. Tal's skin prickled pleasantly with gooseflesh and the doors swung open, whining on old hinges.

Tal started to protest, determined to know what happened to her vallaslin, how she knew Dorian's plan, and just _everything_. "But—" The sight of the courtyard stole his words and his breath. His heart surged into his throat with awe and horror.

The sky swirled overhead, green like the Fade. It was the Breach, impossibly large, consuming the world just as Cassandra thought it would when he first woke in the Chantry cell in Haven. Bits of statues hovered in the air, floating like clouds. Andraste stared down at him from overtop the castle walls, slowly rotating. It looked like soon the statue, and large chunks of the castle, would be pulled into the vortex of the Breach.

"Holy fucking shit," he cursed.

Rosa strode fearlessly into the courtyard, tossing a barrier up over the lot of their group. And, finally, Tal saw the source of all the rumbling. Venatori lined the castle walls, shouting as they hurled burning rubble in catapults out beyond the walls. Every Venatori in the castle must be here, rushing to and fro in full armor, mages and rogues and fighters alike.

A dozen men pushing a cart ahead of them stopped as they noticed their prisoners escaping. Their cart was loaded with rubble from the disintegrating castle, likely to be used in a catapult. The Venatori looked at each other, their body language full of alarm. Half of them at once left the cart and started running toward them.

"Die, fools!" one of them roared as he charged.

Leliana, Varric, and Sera nocked arrows and fired. Dorian grabbed out his staff and Cassandra readied her sword and shield. Tal tensed, muttering an oath under his breath as he felt again how massive his mana core was. And, come to think of it, the barrier Rosa put over them was _incredibly_ powerful. It hadn't decayed and showed no sign of doing so.

As the archers fired their first arrows, to no effect against the armored Venatori, Rosa motioned dismissively at them. A Veilstrike boomed through the air, smashing all of the men to the ground. They scarcely had a chance to cry out before the force of her spell splattered their bodies open as easily as smashing grapes.

The group around them gasped, all except Cole and Rosa.

"How…?" Dorian asked in shocked disbelief.

Rosa didn't acknowledge him as she did the same motion again and the Venatori still with the cart suffered the same fate—as did their cart. The Veilstrike was so powerful, in fact, that some of the stone rubble in the cart crushed as well, splintering into smaller fragments and the cart itself was little more than sawdust.

More Venatori troops shouted with alarm and raced to engage them. Before most of them even finished rushing down the stairs Rosa had used Veilstrikes to send them flying or smash them. The other members of the Inquisition stared in shock, walking behind Rosa and Tal in stupefied slow motion.

"How are you doing this?" Tal asked her in a stunned whisper.

"The Veil is almost nothing now," she said as she effortlessly knocked Venatori off a narrow stairway leading into the courtyard. "We draw our strength from the Fade, so we grow stronger. This is the way the People were meant to be."

"No fucking way," Tal blurted. "I can't do what you're doing."

"You could, but it takes some time to get used to."

More Venatori rushed at them around a corner in the courtyard, apparently knowing an ambush was the best chance at stopping this super-powerful mage who'd infiltrated their castle. The men screamed in battle cries, cursing elves, but Rosa made a grabbing motion with her fist and, suddenly, the ground under the Venatoris' feet swelled and cracked open. A crevice like an enormous maw surged up and swallowed the Venatori whole. Then the earth sank back down, mending. It was dreamlike, as though this was the Fade and Rosa commanded it the same way.

Realization slapped Tal across the face. That was _exactly_ what this was. "It's like a dream," he marveled. "And you're a Dreamer."

She shot him a sidelong look, a half-smile on her lips. "Exactly. And I think, with time we do not have, you'd grow into it, too."

Venatori on the ramparts high above launched another bit of burning rubble out to whoever they faced on the battlefield. Seeing that, Rosa reached out toward the statue of Andraste hovering over them. She grunted, the only sign she'd yet revealed that this display of power took actual effort. A second later the rotating statue moved out of the sky, picking up speed impossibly fast. The Venatori screamed with fear and leapt for either side, trying to escape as the statue crashed into the wall, crumbling it in a hail of crushed and cracked stones.

Varric yelped as some of the fractured stones rained down on them. Rosa lifted one palm up and another green-gold barrier dome appeared over them. The rubble bounced harmlessly away. Dorian, Sera, Varric, Cassandra, Leliana and Tal all gaped. Cole and Rosa, of course, weren't the least bit surprised.

A triumphant shout echoed from the ugly green sky then and figures appeared, scaling the half-collapsed wall with surprising ease. Many of them wore Keeper armor, but glittering Elvhenan plate like Rosa's wasn't uncommon. And all of them, he saw dizzyingly, were elves. Every. Single. One.

" _Fen'Harel vir'enasalin,"_ they called. _"Fen'Harel vir'enasalin!"_ The elves swarming into the castle reached the courtyard as more Venatori, scattered now, ran to fight them. Every elf erected barriers over themselves in blue. They lashed out with fireballs and ice spikes, Fade stone and lightning.

Why in the great beyond where they shouting about the Dread Wolf? Before Tal could voice this question the others started reacting.

"Maker," Cassandra murmured in a prayer of gratitude. "Thank you. _Thank you._ "

"Elves?" Leliana asked, stunned.

"Where did they all come from?" Dorian asked, brown eyes wide and disbelieving.

"Every wild corner of Thedas and every alienage," Rosa answered. "Not to mention the thousands we freed from Tevinter." Her eyes were proud as she watched them fighting—yet Tal still saw grief clinging to her like a shadow.

He squeezed at her shoulder where she still supported him. _"Asamalin?"_ When she turned her head to regard him, Tal asked in elven, _"What's wrong? What's going on here? Why are they shouting about the Dread Wolf?"_

Rosa stared at him, her lips twisting up and then down. Her chin wrinkled with emotion. Then, suddenly, Cole was at her opposite side. "You promised not to tell him," he said in a rush. _"Vhenan,_ " he said, adopting a different, slower cadence and pitch. "Promise me you will not tell him."

Rosa's nostrils flared and she shot Cole a dangerous look. Tal felt her shoulders jerk as a sob seized her. Cole took a step back from her, as though afraid, but then he surged forward once more, touching her shoulder. "It wasn't his fault. He loved her as much as you did. He was afraid. He's _still_ afraid. He loves you."

"Rosa?" Tal asked, heart pounding with worry and his stomach wriggling all over again. "What is he on about?"

"Quiet, Cole," Rosa shouted at him, suddenly trembling. "You're not helping."

"But you promised," Cole pleaded, almost whimpering. "For the People."

A crackle noise and a boom reverberated through the courtyard, interrupting their emotional scene. Tal and the others looked ahead to see a rift open up where the elves still fought the Venatori. Demons spawned—green wraiths and slithering shades. A few elves broke away from fighting Venatori and switched to the demons, dispatching them with ease. The Venatori who took on the demons had more difficulty shrugging off or blocking spirit-based magical attacks. The demons were apparently stronger here, too.

And through the breach in the wall, still more elves appeared. Warriors wielding glowing blades that buzzed with powerful energy like lightning appeared, wearing golden Elvhenan armor. There were only a few dozen of them, but they were elite fighters, cutting through Venatori and demons like a hot knife through butter.

"Arcane warriors," Rosa told him. "The Dread Wolf brought them."

"The Dread Wolf?" Tal repeated incredulously.

"What?" Dorian echoed. "Who is this now?"

"An elven god," Tal replied quickly. "But he's supposed to be an evil god and these elves are shouting his name like he's…like he's not evil, I guess."

"No, fucking demons that lot," Sera complained, shaking her head in fear. "Demon worshipping knife ears."

Rosa glared over her shoulder at the archer but said nothing until she faced forward again, her arm under Tal hiking higher to support him better. "Come on. He will be here soon and we need to find the magister."

"Alexius is still alive?" Dorian asked as Rosa led them out of the shelter of the strange dome barrier she erected. "I was beginning to think he must surely be dead. This battle has clearly not ended well for him."

"The Elder One will be here soon," Rosa said matter-of-factly. "Assuming Fen'Harel doesn't just kill him outright."

"What?" Tal and Dorian squawked as one with shock.

Rosa, infuriatingly, didn't answer. They picked their way over crumbled stones from the collapsed wall. Cole took up the lead now. Elves in varying armors stepped aside as they entered the fighting, barriers flickering. Tal stared, stunned as elves in leather rogue armor watched his sister and dipped their heads in respect before they refreshed their own barriers and moved to continue with the next wave of demons from the rift.

"What in the great beyond is going on here?" Tal asked. He didn't know what to question first: that rogues and warriors were using magic, or that someone united city elves _and_ Dalish. Or that this army of elves treated Rosa like she was their leader even though she'd issued no commands. It was all scarcely believable, despite the fact he was living it.

The rift went dormant but did not close. Rosa brought him to stand beneath it as the elves wordlessly cleared the area. Some stood to watch reverently, while others marched off to continue engaging and ferretting out any hidden Venatori.

"Would you, _isamalin?"_ she asked softly, jerking her chin to the rift. "It's been a year since anyone could close one of these nuisances."

Tal nodded mutely and, leaving her support, found his knees were stronger now. Swallowing against the biting pain in his palm as the mark activated, Tal thrust his hand up. The rift glowed brighter, its size oscillating. Tal felt the mark connect with _something_ and then he gritted his teeth and clenched his fist, jerking downward. With an echoing boom and a shower of what almost looked like sparks, the rift sealed.

The elves lingering around this spot whistled and cheered. One of them shouted with a thick Orlesian accent, "Herald of Andraste!" But a different elf with an accent from Ferelden scoffed loudly and said, "Fen'Harel's Chosen."

Tal frowned, trying not to stagger with shock. "The fuck…?" he asked, turning in a slow circle to gawk at the elves. Until his eyes met a familiar face and his stomach lurched into his throat all over again. He half-collapsed backward, hitting Rosa who moved to support him again. "My…my…No…she—my Keeper," he stammered, eyes glued to the young elven woman wearing Keeper armor still standing some distance away in the rubble along the fallen wall.

"Nola is here, yes," Rosa said softly. "Clan Lavellan and Manaria were some of the first to join us."

"Who is this us again?" Dorian asked, still staring in blank shock at the elven army. _"Kaffas,"_ he muttered. "This must be what it felt like when Andraste and Shartan laid siege to Minrathous."

Nola's blue eyes followed Tal as Rosa led him deeper into the courtyard, toward the main keep. His Keeper's smile was sad in the second before he turned away and Tal felt his heart seize in his chest with sharp pain. _Void take me,_ he cursed himself. How could he have left her like he did?

Cassandra pushed forward around Dorian, speaking to Rosa. "Will they accept outsider's help?" she asked. "I wish to help them with what little strength I have left."

Rosa smiled sadly at the Seeker. "We welcome your help, but our army won't enter the keep and there are bound to be more Venatori there. Your Herald may yet need your help."

Cassandra nodded gravely. "I understand." Her gaze flitted to Tal and she smiled haltingly. The red haze over her made her painful to look at but Tal forced himself to return the gesture and croaked out a faint, "Thank you for sticking with me."

"Of course," she answered, her wan smile a little brighter now.

They reached another spot in the courtyard where a rift had opened up. The demons were long since dead, killed by the elves lingering in the area. Tal again closed it before more spirits could be pulled through and made into demons. Once more the assembled elven army whistled and cheered. A few of them repeated the same strange war cry as before: _"Fen'Harel vir'enasalin!"_

Rosa didn't let him linger with shock and quickly took him through the doors to the keep. The castle walls were cracked badly in places and red lyrium grew everywhere, ringing in their ears loudly as they passed. The sound made Tal wince, reminded too much of the awful screaming of the dead. Rosa steered them clear of the crystals and Tal focused on his sister's strong arm to stay grounded.

They reached the grand hall, where the doorway to Alexius' throne room waited. There were a dozen or so Venatori here, as well as another rift. The Venatori seemed to run from the demons rather than fight them.

Rosa tossed barriers over their group and then sat back, watching as Cassandra, Dorian, Sera, Varric, and Cole hurried to fight. Tal looked at her, confused. "Aren't you going to wipe the floor with them, literally, with just a flick of your wrist?"

"If I need to," she answered. "But I wanted a minute to talk to you while Cole isn't dogging me about my promise."

Tal cocked his head. "What promise? To who?"

Her eyes were wet with tears instantly. She swallowed, staring out at the room rather than looking at him. "Who else would call me vhenan?"

"Revas?" Tal asked, frowning in a state of continuous puzzlement.

Now it was Rosa's turn to look at him, brow furrowed for a moment. Then her lips parted with comprehension. "Oh. I'd forgotten. You don't know him by his true name."

"Revas?" Tal repeated again, feeling increasingly like a parrot. A useless parrot with serious mange who'd lost all his feathers but could still talk.

Rosa nodded. "Revas is the name he chose when the Templars took him into Hasmal Circle, but it's not his given name or the one he prefers." She smiled darkly then, as if that comment carried more weight or meaning than Tal knew. "His true name is Solas."

"He got away that day Alexius cast me and Dorian into the future," Tal said, relief making his shoulders slump. Another small mercy of this frightening future. "Thank the Creators."

A trio of shades groaned, slithering close. Rosa hardly looked at them and a green burst of spirit magic slammed them backward. The shades dissolved and their essence streaked back to the rift.

Tal shook his head, still astounded at how powerful she was, how utterly unafraid—but it struck him then that he hadn't seen this hardness in her since before Eliana was born. Motherhood had softened her and given her greater patience. Now she seemed entirely a warrior, unfeeling except for the moments when something set her off, hinting at a cataclysmic amount of emotion just beneath the surface that she must struggle to contain.

The horrible thought leapt into his mind so fast he couldn't stop himself from blurting the question aloud. _"Asamalin,_ where's Elia?"

Rosa jerked her head toward him, eyes hard like a hawk's. Her lips pinched together and she stared at him, unblinking. The redness around her eyes intensified and she sucked in a short breath, swallowing audibly. "It's been a very hard year since you vanished," she said. "But thinking of today has kept me from falling apart."

A pain like a knife stabbing him in the heart pierced Tal's chest. He felt like vomiting again. Breathing hurt and he fought to speak aloud his growing fear. "Elia died, didn't she? Something happened to her…"

Rosa's chin wrinkled and tears dripped from her eyes onto her cheeks. Her shoulders shook, but she held back the obvious sobs building. "We both died," she whispered. "She died in body, but most days I feel like my soul went with her."

Her violet eyes darted over his face as Tal felt his own grief hit him like a sledgehammer and tears flooded his eyes. "I never understood what you meant," she went on, "when I was unconscious after the Avvar attack and you said you wanted to die rather than live without me." She choked, shaking. "I know how you felt now. I'm sorry it took _this_ to make me see it."

Sobbing, Tal pulled her to him. "I'm so sorry, Rosa. I'm _so_ sorry. If I'd been there, maybe I could—"

Rosa pushed him back from her, shaking her head. "No, you couldn't have stopped it. Even Fen—" She cut herself off, squeezing her eyes tightly shut before sucking in a deeper, steadying breath.

When she opened them again and looked at him, the hardness had returned and the vulnerability was gone. "There is something you can do for me to help." Her hands gripped his arms tightly, desperately. "Quite a few things, actually, but never mind most of them just now."

Tal blinked furiously, clearing the tears from his eyes to see her better as she went on. "Tell the other me to watch out for _Brycen,_ the prick from Hasmal Circle. I don't know where he will be or who he'll serve in your timeline, but tell me _never, ever_ to travel to the Brecilian with Elia."

Tal nodded quickly. "Brycen. Never travel with Elia to the Brecilian." The name sounded familiar to him, but in the moment he couldn't place it. _A prick from Hasmal Circle._

"And Imshael. Tell me the demons will hunt us—and _you."_ Rosa was red-faced, shaking with both rage and grief. "Tell her it isn't about our heritage as much as it's about—" She broke off, teeth bared and nostrils flaring. "It's about Solas. Not Dirthamen. Not _lenalin._ Not Falon'Din, Mythal, Elgar'nan, or any of them." She gave him a little shake. "It's about Solas. It always was."

The anger and pain in her expression were raw and hard to look at. Tal grimaced, trying to guess the details she was hinting at. There was so much unsaid, just barely glimpsed between her words and in her features. "You're really mad at him about something," he said, daring to chuckle dryly. " _Fenedhis,_ I hate that I'm right about him being a dick."

The rift in the center of the great hall boomed as the last demon died. It was ready to be sealed. Cassandra and Sera were about to put down the last Venatori, as well. Rosa glanced at the rift, shriveled and dripping white-green Fade ether. Then she turned to Tal, tears and rage intermingling on her cheeks. "I _am_ angry with him, yes, and the other me will be, too. But…" She sucked in a wavering breath, eyes shutting, pushing out more tears as one palm rested over her middle. "For the People, both she and I have to move on from it."

Tal's eyes darted up and down from her hand to her face, baffled. "Rosa—"

"Herald!" Dorian shouted from the great hall. "We need your magic hand now, if you please."

Rosa grabbed his arm and moved into position to offer him support again. Tal felt strong enough now to walk unaided, but he didn't push her away. His mind still spun with all the things she said, all the strange comments that hinted at a _very_ complex, strange, and sad year that he'd missed.

In the center of the room the mark activated with a slick hissing-boom and Tal thrust his palm up to the rift. After a few moments of pain it was closed and they stood in the great hall, alone except for their allies. Dorian was the first to hurry to Alexius' throne room door and find it was locked.

"Hmmm…" Dorian hummed as he examined the door. "There must be a way in. The servants have to come and go and Alexius has to eat. We need to have a look around."

"No need," Rosa said, steering Tal over toward the door before the rest of their party could waste time fanning out to search the Venatori bodies. "I'll get us in."

"Have you _seen_ this door?" Dorian asked testily. "You _aren't_ going to break through it."

"No," Rosa told him blankly. "You're right, I'm not." She shifted Tal, leaving him with the Tevinter as she walked toward the door.

Tal motioned Dorian away, letting the other mage know he could stand on his own. "Rosa," he called, walking slowly after her, trying not to overdo it and wind up in a horrible fit of dry retching. "What are you doing?"

Rosa stretched out a hand but didn't touch the metal of the magically sealed door. "This thing needs red lyrium shards to unlock it the old fashioned way. But there's no need for us to waste that kind of time. Fen'Harel will be here soon and we should take care of—"

"What?" Tal barked with shock. A second later Leliana also echoed him. "What did you say?"

"Was this the elven god you mentioned earlier?" Dorian asked, with a patronizing little laugh. "Are we truly going to have the pleasure of meeting him?"

Rosa ignored Dorian's comment and everyone else's alarmed or confused or sarcastic reactions. She remained focused on the wall, brow furrowed in concentration.

Tal moved closer to her, laying a hand on her shoulder and speaking in elven. _"Rosa, you sound crazy. Please tell me you're joking about the Dread Wolf."_

His sister didn't answer, but a moment later the sealed door wavered in Tal's peripheral vision. He turned to stare at it and his mouth fell open as the others gasped. The solid metal and stone of the wall had turned into gray fog that gradually lost all shape. Then the color changed from deep gray to green. It was Fade ether, as if everything here, despite being reality, was actually just a dream.

" _Fenedhis,"_ Tal breathed.

"Maker protect us," Cassandra said, echoing his oath with one of her own.

Then the fog bank disappeared. Now, where before a wall had stood and the strange red lyrium shard doorway blocked their passage, there was a wide archway. The border was white stone that stuck out to Tal, drawing his wide eyes. It reminded him _a lot_ of the ancient Elvhen ruins around Thedas. Yet this arch was brand new, created before his very eyes by his sister.

Beyond the doorway they saw the throne room. It was darker than when Tal first saw it—was it mere hours ago? A figure in Tevinter armor stood with his back to them in front of the crackling fire. Another shape lingered in the corner, crouched over and squatting. Neither of them reacted as Rosa began walking forward, leading them.

"Hello Alexius," Rosa called out to him as Dorian hurried ahead of her and Tal, perhaps hoping to intervene and bargain with his former mentor.

The magister lifted his head slightly and twisted enough to gaze over his shoulder. He started, turning fully around, his eyes roving over their strange group and then back to the new architecture of his castle's throne room. "What is this?" he asked in a gravelly voice.

"What have you and your Elder One done to this world, Alexius?" Dorian asked, mournful and appalled. "Have you been outside lately? Have you looked up at the sky? Was it worth it?"

Alexius' shoulders slumped. "So you've come back. My final failure." He hung his head. "I knew you would be back. I didn't know when it would be, but I knew I hadn't killed you the way the Elder One demanded."

"Your Elder One brought this world to ruin," Rosa spat, stiff-legged as she drew closer still to Alexius' dais and its throne. The magister's eyes moved to her and narrowed. "But his pathetic reign is about to end. Ironic that he wanted to become a god and all he did was unleash _our_ gods."

"What?" Leliana asked, shocked from just behind Tal.

"You fools delude yourselves," Alexius spat. "You think your rabble of halla-riding rattus can stand up to the might of the Elder One?"

Rosa scoffed, laughing derisively. "How do you think I got in here? Do you see any halla? Your Venatori are dead. The only reason you've even lasted this long is because we knew we needed you alive for this moment." She thrust out her chin. "So I'd advise you cooperate. I'd really rather not smash you like a bug."

"You dare," Alexius snarled at her, but he was shaking, too. He cast a look over his shoulder at the withered Blight-stricken man behind him that Tal realized with a jolt was actually Felix.

"Alexius," Dorian said, pleading. "We can undo all this. If you regret this, please, let us have the amulet. Help me take the Herald back to the past. We can stop all this from happening."

"Fen'Harel knows a cure for Blight," Rosa said then and this completely took Alexius by surprise. His posture changed from tense and hostile to motionless with shock.

"You lie…"

Rosa spread her hands. "Why would I lie? You know I can kill you with just a thought. I know your spies must whisper about us. This rabble of halla-riders defeated your Elder One's demon army. We pushed your red Templars out of Orlais. Why would Fen'Harel's top general tell you such a thing now, right when I have you cornered with no hope?"

Dorian shot Tal a confused look, one that Tal was sure he mirrored. The Tevinter mouthed, _"Top general…?"_

Tal shrugged helplessly, equally lost and confused. The short time Rosa spent with him out of Cole's earshot was clearly _nowhere_ near enough to cover even the barest surface of this strange future. But at least this explained the behavior of the elves in the courtyard.

Alexius stumbled away from Rosa as she stepped onto the dais. He moved back to be with Felix, his lips parted and his jaw flapping as he struggled to find some reply. "Why are you telling me this?" he asked.

Rosa stopped and glowered, her eyes wet and paradoxically as hard as steel. "Because I know what it's like to lose my child. Because I would have destroyed the world, too, if it meant I could save her. But I couldn't." She paused a moment and then said, "But there's something you and I can do for each other, magister, as two parents who want nothing more than to help our children." She dropped her voice slightly and motioned toward Dorian on one side and then Tal behind her. "If you help Dorian and my brother travel back where they came from and tell me _everything_ you know about one of the Elder One's demon generals, Imshael, then I will intercede with Fen'Harel and ask him to cure your son."

Alexius gawped on the air, speechless. Yet whatever he saw on Rosa's face and heard in her voice was convincing enough that _hope_ sprang into his eyes. "I—I don't know this Imshael," he admitted.

"He killed my daughter," Rosa murmured in a dark tone. "He was the one who orchestrated it, anyway."

" _The wolf_ can truly save Felix?" Alexius asked, his eyes moist.

Rosa snorted. "Magister, I just made the wall back there turn into an arch. Is it really so unbelievable that one even more powerful than I might know how to help your son?"

Now Dorian got in on the action, scoffing as he gestured at the archway Rosa created. "Can you honestly tell me, Alexius, that your Elder One did anything like that? What harm is there in helping us so that you can win her and her master's favor?"

Rosa scowled now. "I do _not_ have a master, Tevinter," she snapped.

"My apologies," Dorian said quickly, clearly startled at how fast he offended her.

Watching the exchange, Tal was just dizzy. He knew better than to say _master_ as Dorian had, because it reeked of slavery and naturally they, as elves, were hypersensitive to it. Yet he still couldn't fathom the Rosa of this timeline. He'd always known she was a leader, born and raised—unlike him. And he always knew she was a powerful mage. Yet the prestige and power she casually put on display for them was…simply dumbfounding.

"What more are you going to do, magister?" Rosa asked, spreading her hands. "Wait for the Evanuris to crush you like they will your Elder One? You know Fen'Harel will only leave him alive as fodder and distraction for the Evanuris, because the Elder One will be stupid enough to fight them head on. At least with us you stand a chance of surviving the next six months because we know what is coming."

The confusion blooming on Alexius' face matched everyone else in the room, other than Tal who knew _Evanuris_ was a name Felassan used for the Creators. Still, though Tal knew the definition it didn't explain everything. Rosa seemed to suggest the Creators would soon be free from the prison _Fen'Harel_ locked them away inside. Why would the trickster god free them? Was she lying?

Seeing the magister's bafflement, Rosa sighed. "Have you dreamed, recently?"

Slow horror showed in Alexius' eyes. "Yes."

Rosa leaned forward slightly. _"Those_ beings are the Evanuris. The elven gods, as false as your Elder One, but many times more powerful. Corypheus found dealing with one member of our pantheon a challenge. How well would he fare against _seven_ more of them?"

"The wolf can save my son?" Alexius asked again, and it was clear nothing else Rosa said mattered to him.

Rosa shrugged. "He can cure Blight, yes, though your son's case could be too advanced. But I see no reason he would not try if you agree to help us." Her voice grew rougher with emotion. "He has lost a child, too."

Tal blinked, staring at Rosa from behind. _What?_ No legend that he ever heard described Fen'Harel as a parent. And then, abruptly, Tal wondered: _Where is Revas?_ Or Solas. Whatever the fuck his name was. It wasn't just where he was at this moment, but where was he when Rosa spoke? Shouldn't _Solas_ be the Dread Wolf's so-called top general? He was the one with literal ages of experience as a general for Mythal. Was Rosa just overstating her position in the wolf's forces to manipulate Alexius or…what?

Before Tal could consider that question further Alexius made his decision. With shaking hands the magister reached into his robes and pulled out the silver, glittering amulet. The sight of it made Tal's stomach clench. He swallowed, sweaty and nauseous. What if his next pass through the portal killed him?

"Thank you," Dorian said, sounding genuinely relieved as he hurried to the dais. He clasped the amulet in his palm, holding Alexius' hand in his own and smiling wanly at the older man. Their connection made Tal look away, thinking painfully of his dead father, and then, even worse, of Eliana and Rosa. Losing a parent was awful, but his heart ached for his sister and he blinked away tears. He couldn't imagine how painful it was losing Eliana. For him this was all a transitory nightmare, but for her it was _real._

He repeated Rosa's warnings in his head, further committing them to memory. _Brycen. Imshael. Do not travel to the Brecilian. It's about Rev—Solas. Not Dirthamen or anyone else._

Dorian and Alexius began working on the amulet together, making it glow green-white. "How long will it take?" Rosa asked them as she stepped off the dais.

"An hour, perhaps?" Dorian asked, then looked to Alexius for confirmation. The older man nodded in agreement.

"All right," Rosa said and came to Tal, her brow creased with emotion and her eyes red-rimmed with loss. "It sounds like I'll get to say goodbye this time, _da'isamalin,"_ she said, smiling sadly. "That's better than I've had with _lenalin_ , _mamae,_ or…" Tears glistened in her eyes.

"Your mother, too?" Tal asked, suddenly crying, as well. As Rosa nodded he shook his head, refusing to believe it. "No, you have to be wrong about Halesta. No one messed with her." He chuckled, trying for levity and felt a little warm place inside when Rosa let out a tearful laugh in response.

"You're right, she fought hard. She…she saved my life." Rosa swallowed, throat bobbing. "She could have healed herself but…with her last strength she healed me, instead." She choked, covering her mouth with one hand.

Tal pulled her into another embrace. How wretched must this all be for her? Her mother was dead, Elia was dead, Revas or Solas or whatever his name had done something to hurt her badly, again, and now she had to say goodbye to him, too?

"I can't leave you," he said, blubbering as the sobs escaped him suddenly against his will. He shuddered in her arms. "I can't do that to you. You've lost everything and I…I get to go back and…it's _not fair._ "

She patted his back like his mother would, making a shushing noise to soothe him even as he felt her chest heaving with restrained sobs too. "You have to go back, _da'isamalin._ You _must."_ She pushed back from him, shaking him slightly. Her cheeks were still wet, but her eyes were hard now, merciless. "I told you I kept living for today. And it wasn't just that I'd get to see you one last time. It was…" She hiccupped, struggling to speak past grief. "It was knowing I could save Eliana in your world."

Tal gripped her shoulders in turn, feeling tears streaking down his cheeks. "Then you have my promise I'll go back and make sure she stays safe."

Rosa nodded, sniffing, clearly trying to recompose herself. "That _is_ what I want." She let out a noise that was both laugh and sob. "Solas says he doesn't know if this world will vanish when you go back. I hope it does, but if it doesn't…" She bit her lips. "I've done everything I can to save the People. To give them a future. I can't save Elia in this world, but don't grieve for me, _da'isamalin,_ don't you dare."

"How can I not?" Tal asked, still fighting his tears. "Once I'm gone you'll just have Rev—Solas, or whatever that bastard's name is." He sniffed and let out a weak laugh. "And, I guess, you'll have the trickster god. I hope he's better than the legends say."

Now Rosa stared at him, eyes flicking back and forth and her lips pinched together. And suddenly Cole was beside her, speaking in a hushed voice. "You promised."

Rosa's chest heaved and she let out a pained cry, covering her face with one hand. "Stop, Cole. I know what I promised."

"What is this promise you keep talking about?" Tal asked, frowning.

"He asked her not to tell you about him," Cole said, as if that vague response was an answer.

Before Tal could complain about Cole's evasiveness, Rosa snapped at the strange boy. "What was the point of my promise if you're just going to take it from him?"

Cole flinched. "I won't take what's safe. He will remember what he needs to."

"Whoa, whoa," Tal protested, taking a step back. "Stay out of my head, freak! Rosa, he can't wipe my memories!"

"He won't be wiping your memory because I won't break my promise," Rosa said, growling the words as she glared at Cole. "Isn't that right?"

Cole stared between them, an unreadable but troubled expression over his features. Finally he simply vanished, leaving Tal to blink and twist around, trying to find the weirdo. He saw Cassandra, Varric, Sera, and Leliana sitting across the throne room, slouched and exhausted but talking together. Their weapons lay on their laps, ever ready for a fight. Dorian and Alexius continued working on the dais with the amulet. Felix sat in the corner, unmoving except for the occasional spastic twitch.

Cole was gone.

"What…. _who_ is that?" he asked.

Rosa sighed, her shoulders slumping and her features drooping with exhaustion. It was the first sign of physical weakness Tal glimpsed from her since meeting her in this strange ruined world. Again he saw her hand resting on her middle.

"Cole is Solas' close friend. He's a spirit of compassion who chose to come through the Veil some years ago. He took physical shape. We met him shortly after you disappeared, when Corypheus—the Elder One—poisoned the Templars with red lyrium."

"Wow, that Elder One is a bastard," Tal muttered.

Rosa nodded absently. "Cole was with the Templars, so he saw what happened. He tried to find someone to save them…he found…well, he found one of Fen'Harel's agents. And she took him to us."

Tal eased closer to her, dropping his voice and using elven again. _"You're really worrying me talking about the Dread Wolf like this. He's really here? And he's a good guy?"_

She let out another weary breath, eyes shutting for a moment as she nodded. _"Fen'Harel intends to save the People. From both Corypheus and the Evanuris. He…has a good heart."_ She swallowed and a pained look flashed across her face that warped into anger. "Even if I can't _stand him_ right now…"

The world swam a little at how casually she mentioned the trickster god and the fact she apparently wasn't getting along with him—like he was just an ordinary person. "I'm sorry, _asamalin,_ I'm just…I'm having trouble with this. When did the Dread Wolf come out of his corner after locking away the Creators? He was supposed to be sitting back laughing about it for like thousands of years and he never gave a shit about Thedas or the People before this. Why now?"

A look of disgust swept over Rosa and Tal thought she was about to curse Fen'Harel or maybe reprimand him for what he said, but she stayed silent, breathing deeply for several long seconds. Her hand still rested on her middle. That gesture was the same one she used while pregnant with Eliana.

Tal leaned closer to her. _"Are you…pregnant?"_ She didn't really look like it. Her armor was lean and shiny, but the black wolf pelt partly obscured her waist. The placement _was_ a little low...

Rosa was silent a long moment. He was just beginning to think he misjudged the hand-on-her-stomach motion when Rosa nodded. _"I am."_

He stared, stunned for the millionth time today. His stomach flip-flopped, but whether it was sympathy nausea, like the kind he briefly experienced when she was pregnant with Eliana and living with his clan, or some kind of anxious happiness for her, Tal couldn't be sure. She didn't appear exceedingly happy in this moment, but how could she considering all that happened?

And, again, he looked around, wondering where in the Void Rev— _Solas_ was.

"I…I guess you weren't _that_ mad at…what's his name, Solas, then?" He tried to chuckle, hoping to probe her reaction without pressing too much for detail. A lot had happened so apparently this pregnancy was low on her list of things to tell him.

Oddly his comment made Rosa glare at him a second before pain darkened her eyes. She swallowed and looked away from him. "This baby isn't his."

"Oh," Tal said and his cheeks flushed hot. "Sorry. I shouldn't have—"

"It's Fen'Harel's," she said, still staring at the stone floor.

"What?" Tal asked, jaw hanging open. He switched hurriedly to elven. _"You're having a baby with a god?"_

She grimaced and shook her head. "He's not a god. He never was." When she met his gaze again her violet eyes had hardened. _"He does not expect to survive what's coming,"_ she said, using elven. _"After losing Elia…"_ She took a ragged breath. _"It destroyed us. We thought another child would help ease the grief, but then Imshael came and told me the full truth. I hated him, but the People need him and then I found out I was pregnant and…"_ She shook, sniffing. _"The People need strong mages. Fen'Harel and I are the strongest. Eliana was stronger than me. If she lived, if we had more time, she could have helped him…"_

Tal hardly registered most of her words as connections snapped into place. The way she spoke of _him_ left no doubt of a past history. _Destroyed_ _us_ _._ _Another_ _child._ And then she spoke of Eliana helping _him_ and…

Tal took a wobbly step backward in shock. Then a second, gaping in horror and shock at his sister, who wouldn't meet his eye. "It's _Revas?!"_

"Solas," she corrected idly, brushing almost angrily at her tears. "One and the same." She frowned. _"Fenedhis. I_ broke my promise."

"No fucking way," Tal breathed, shaking his head in astonishment and disbelief. "No. Fucking. Way."

Rosa sighed, shutting her eyes again. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you." She gazed at him sorrowfully after a moment. "You have to calm down and move past that shock. I still need your help." Her voice broke. "One last time, _da'isamalin,_ before the magister sends you away from me forever."

Quaking still with shock, Tal struggled to compose himself. He glanced at the remnants of the Inquisition and saw them staring back at him, perplexed at his outburst. Dorian and Alexius, meanwhile, remained focused on the amulet.

"Okay," he said, shoulders rising and falling with each fast, rough breath. "What do you need?"

Rosa's brow creased, unreadable. "Rogathe."

Tal blinked, stunned all over again. "What? Why?"

"I need to be stronger for what's coming," she said, her hand going to her middle again. "If I'm going to survive once Fen'Harel is gone."

Tal nodded, licking his lips. "If you can get him out of me you can have him."

"It won't go back with you," Rosa cautioned him. "It will be gone forever, stuck here in this time, this world. If you need it once you've returned—"

"I need Rogathe like I need a hernia," Tal said with a brittle laugh. "You can take him and I won't miss the overzealous, judgmental bastard. We never got along in the first place." He hesitated, trying to find the spirit inside and, just as he thought he would, Tal felt Rogathe eagerly straining for Rosa. It _wanted_ to be with her, to protect her and share its strength.

"It even wants to go with you," he said, laughing with relief.

Rosa nodded, jaw squaring, but there was something like a release from worry in her eyes, as if she doubted this would be so easy. She motioned at him, pulling him close. Tal stooped slightly, following her lead. She riffled under his Inquisition-issue leather vest and pulled out the pendant with its old dried blood still on it in flakes. She tossed it carelessly aside, heedless of the others' curious stares.

Tal touched his forehead to hers at her signal and shut his eyes. A second later he inhaled sharply as his muscles snapped taut and he felt a prickling heat move inside him, lurching up and out, straight for Rosa with all the eagerness of a toddler rushing for candy. Rosa flinched in his grasp, breathing faster as the spirit sank into her.

They parted then, both dizzy and fighting to stay upright. Across the room Cassandra and Leliana were on their feet, weapons out but not yet aimed at the two elves. Dorian and Alexius had even lifted their eyes from the amulet to take notice.

"Was that…?" Cassandra started to ask.

"You were possessed," Leliana said. "Weren't you?"

"What?" Sera barked with alarm. "You were supposed to warn me, Treeface, afore you bust out in demons! You promised!"

"That wasn't a demon, you stupid girl," Rosa snapped at the archer. "It was a spirit of bravery. And he _was_ possessed but now _I am."_ She stared at them, her look daring them to challenge her.

The Seeker and Leliana both backed up, their postures easing slightly. With everything else they'd seen this day the possession was probably the least surprising. Sera, however, still appeared as though she might want to shoot both Rosa and Tal. Her nose wrinkled as her brown eyes flicked between them, full of suspicion.

"How do I know it wasn't a demon?" she demanded.

"You don't," Rosa said. "You just take my word for it and relax because I'm not growing claws or fangs and killing everyone in a mad bloodlust. Until I do, keep your arrows to yourself."

Sera sneered at her, still suspicious, but she plopped back down on her backsides anyway.

Tal hardly registered their exchange because for the first time in _months_ he felt…light. Free. The twisting tension that always waited in the background was finally, _mercifully_ gone. His eyes stung with fresh tears to his shame. He fought them back. Even the ongoing, distant ringing of the dead screaming in his ears couldn't bother him. Rogathe was gone. At last!

And then a screech echoed through the air and the castle shook, sending dust falling into the throne room. The Inquisition members hopped to their feet again and Tal turned to gaze back at the archway Rosa had left in the wall. "What was that?"

Rosa frowned. "The Elder One is here."

* * *

Elven language refreshers

I use a lot of elven and don't define it every chapter so, just in case...

 _lenalin-_ male parent. Rosa uses this to refer to her father, Felassan. It's a mark of how bitter she is that he was more mentor to her than father.

 _da'isamalin/isamalin/asamalin-_ I use these so often people probably know what they mean but just in case, in order: little brother/brother/sister

 _Fen'Harel vir'enasalin_ -The Dread Wolf's victorious path

* * *

 **Next Chapter**

Solas was silent except for a ragged breath. Then he said, _"Sa'rajelan."_ The title drew Tal into staring openly again at his sister and her scholarly-wolf-obsessed-semi-god lover. It meant _First Commander._ Rosa truly was his top general.

Fen'Harel reached up and removed the headdress, revealing a familiar bald, pale, smooth-skinned Elvhen man beneath. He extended the headdress out to her like a gift. Rosa shook her head, anger contorting her features again. "No."

"The People will need a leader," he said, soft but implacable. "You are the strongest. I do not ask this lightly. I know it places you at great risk, but the People need you."

* * *

Poor Tal spent so much of this just stunned and confused, LOL. Poor guy. Next chapter we finish up in the dark future with you-know-who showing up in full regalia!

Thank you to everyone following and reading, but especially to those who take the time to drop me a little review! I always adore them!

Good to see you again, CynicArchon! Yes, Rosa was up to something, but nothing too nefarious.

And thank you Cookie! Yes, "the end" in the dark future is never good. Tal actually does still have his necromancy talent in Rosa Stands Tall, it's just we don't see him being crippled by it any longer and he's channeled it into defensive purposes and then into the Crown of Falon'Din later.

Apparently there's a DA tabletop RPG game and the hubby got me the core rulebook and was like, "You wanna be GM for a campaign?" Now I sit around thinking about how I'd do a campaign with our DnD group, like maybe in I think it was the Glory Age? When the Dales were still around and outright war finally broke out between humans and elves. That's where I'd drop my PCs,then I'd run them through the Red Crossing conflict that started the war and we'd all explore Thedas' history together.

Sorry, I think way too much about this universe. Eek!


	12. Hushed Whispers Part 3: Promises

**Twelve**

Hushed Whispers Part 3: Promises

* * *

"I thought that precious wolf god of yours was going to stop him?" Dorian asked from the dais. Alexius anxiously glanced at Dorian but said nothing, continuing to work with the amulet.

"Never you mind, Tevinter," Rosa said, unperturbed by Dorian's questioning, though she did seem irritated at his doubt in front of Alexius. "If the Elder One is here that means our time is running short. Corypheus must have realized Fen'Harel was just toying with him, but our army will keep the Darkspawn magister busy."

She turned and looked at Tal, her eyes pained. "But it means time is running out. Fen'Harel will be here shortly." She reached out and grasped his hand like a general saying farewell to another leader. Her throat worked and her eyes were wet and red but she didn't cry. "Take care, _da'isamalin._ Remember what I told you about protecting Elia."

Tal nodded somberly, also struggling not to cry. "Of course." As she released his arm and started to walk past, Tal reached out to her again. "Are you sure you have to go now? You said you needed more from me…?"

She hesitated a moment and then blinked, clearly fighting more tears. "Fen'Harel needs your Anchor now. You have to open the way for him to walk into the Fade."

"What?" Tal asked, shaking his head. "But he won't be able to get back out…will he?"

"If there is a way and if he survives what's coming," Rosa said stolidly. "He will escape. But we do not expect he will."

"You said the wolf would cure Felix," Alexius shouted from the dais.

"I said if he can, he will," Rosa said over her shoulder. She gave Tal one last sad look. _"Dareth shiral, da'isamalin."_

" _Dareth shiral, Rosa,"_ Tal replied, the words cracking.

She smiled mournfully and then marched past him for the archway. Tal watched her go, his heart in his throat and his stomach twisting itself in knots. He was surprised when she stopped at the archway, waiting stiff-backed and chin out—like a general about to report to her leader.

It was only a few heartbeats later that a new figure came through the door, flanked by warriors in Elvhen armor. He wore a wolf headdress and rich armor in gold. The headdress hid his face, but knowing what he did, Tal saw through it. This man had Re—Solas' stance and matched his height.

The wolf god stopped at the archway where Rosa stood and faced her. He reached out, laying a hand on her shoulder like a fellow soldier and comrade—but Tal saw through that too. His touch lingered too long. His head and body moved too close to her. And she, in turn, dipped her head low, as if looking at him hurt.

"I have Rogathe," she reported. "And Alexius has agreed to join us in exchange for Felix's life."

Fen'Harel nodded but did not speak. Instead his hand on her shoulder slid down her arm in what was a barely disguised caress, the touch of two lovers estranged but still full of longing. His hand did not fall to his side as he retracted it, however. Instead his palm moved to her midsection in a brief but meaningful touch—a father bidding a child he would never know farewell. Rosa stiffened, chin wrinkling once, and stared past him through the open doorway until his hand fell away.

Tal wished he could un-see that moment and dropped his eyes to the floor. He didn't know whether he pitied Rosa more or the wolf god…Revas. Solas, whatever the fuck his name was. It was still too much for him to think of an _elven god_ as synonymous with his sister's apostate mage lover.

Neither party seemed happy with this situation, but neither could change it. Did Rosa look away to keep from breaking down? Or did she hate him? He wondered what terrible secret—beyond the _obvious one—_ could have ruined them. It seemed Eliana's death didn't break them apart, just left them both brokenhearted. Something else sundered them.

Fen'Harel strode forward now, shoulders square and spine straight. The Elvhen warriors moved forward as well, standing like guards over the rabble of infected Inquisition survivors and also surrounding the dais where Dorian and Alexius worked. The two Tevinter mages shot the elves nervous looks but kept working with the amulet. Cassandra, Leliana, Sera, and Varric all stood tense, watching the wolf god with wariness or confusion.

As the wolf god drew closer Tal tried to look tougher than he felt, but his guts seemed to tangle themselves in knots and his heart hurt. He resisted the desire to look at Rosa repeatedly where she still stood like a guard at the entryway. When Fen'Harel stopped just outside arm's length, Tal flashed a tight grin. "Um...hi?"

Under the headdress Tal saw the other elf's chin and it _did_ look like Solas. The other man's lips twisted slightly, forming a subdued half-smile. The silence was unnerving until Tal flinched, seeing Cole appear abruptly at the wolf god's side.

" _Aneth ara, lethallin,"_ Cole said, apparently acting as Fen'Harel's voice. "It is good to…" Cole frowned. "…meet you…" And then a sad expression washed over him. He winced as he looked toward Fen'Harel. "He knows. She broke her promise."

Tal cringed back, glaring at Cole. "Way to sell us out," he snapped and then regarded the stoic Fen'Harel, seeing the other elf's lips twist slightly down with displeasure. "How could you ask her not to tell me something like this?" He shook his head, reeling all over again as he realized _this was Revas…_ er, _Solas._ That chin was _definitely_ the apostate's, as were the lips. Everything else was obscured by the wolf headdress, but what he could see was obvious with the underlying knowledge.

"Because you will be returning to the past," Solas said, speaking for the first time and his voice was the same. No wonder he tried to use Cole as a voice before. The moment he spoke he would give himself away otherwise. "I cannot allow you to expose me there before the time is right."

"And what time _is_ right?" Tal asked, glowering. "If you told Rosa and I _why_ you left us in the Free Marches—because _this_ was why, wasn't it?—we would have _understood._ We wouldn't think you were some jerk just after a quick fu—"

Solas made a shushing motion at him, speaking over him. "There is far more at stake than you know. The future of the People, and of Thedas." He tilted his head down, making the unseeing wolf's eyes in his headdress stare from on high at Tal, like a disapproving parent. "I regret what has transpired, but there is great danger to you, to Rosa, and to the People if my identity is widely known in your timeline before I am ready to act."

"Not telling people important shit is _always_ bad," Tal grumbled, feeling his face grow hot with irritation. Solas reminded him so much of his father, a more serious version, but still condescending just like a parent. He decided what was _the right time_ versus _too soon._ He never considered his ideas of timing could be wrong.

"This matter is not up for debate," Solas said tersely, and his tone left no room for doubt or quibbling. "Rosa has told you what I require?"

Tal frowned. "You need me to open a rift so you can go into the Fade for some reason…and she thinks you're not going to come back out."

Fen'Harel nodded slightly. "There is a chance I may not return, yes. Because the Elder One has kindly left the Veil shattered, I will be able to return with ease, if circumstances allow." He fell silent, jaw snapping taut. There was clearly more to this than he would say. Tal didn't need to see the rest of his face to read the direness in Solas' lips, jaw, posture, and tone. Furthermore, he'd seen the way he lingered with Rosa. It was a wordless goodbye. Solas was all but certain he wouldn't survive.

"How are you going to save Thedas from this Elder One if you're just leaving him alive while you go off to die?" Tal asked. He still didn't know how exactly _Solas_ planned to do such a thing. Rosa spoke of it with such confidence, but Tal still remembered the Revas he first met at Hasmal, weak as a kitten. Rosa was clearly much stronger than normal in this world, but Tal hadn't seen Solas in action…

Solas—Fen'Harel? Honestly, Tal couldn't consolidate the two men and _three_ different names—shook his head once. "That is not your concern."

A screech echoed from outside the keep and the ground rumbled once more. Fen'Harel was unbothered even as Sera, Cassandra, Varric, and Leliana gasped, cringing as they looked to the ceiling, expecting it to give way. The Elvhen warriors were equally stoic, matching the wolf god. Only Rosa reacted, stepping away from the archway and lifting a palm toward the ceiling. Tal followed her action and saw cracks in the roof closing like a potter pinching ends of clay together. Except Rosa's clay was hard stone, reality.

"We cannot afford delay," the wolf god said, but his voice only held a mild note of urgency. It was more…somber than anything else. Grave, perhaps. A man—or god?—facing his impending death. "Continue your work," he commanded the two Tevinter mages with the amulet on the dais. Then, to Tal, he said, "Walk with me to the great hall." And to Cole, "Please escort Felix with us."

"Whatever you're about to do, going off and getting yourself killed," Tal blurted, his face hot. "I hope you know what you're doing leaving my sister like this when she's already lost—"

The wolf headdress twitched as Fen'Harel jerked his head, lips twisted in a deep frown. Although Tal couldn't see the other man's eyes he _felt_ somehow the wave of grief and rage that pounded him like surf from the Waking Sea. He _felt_ the shadow of the unseen power Solas carried with him in the Fade, which Rosa had told him she sensed from him even while they were in Hasmal. Though he knew this was _Solas_ he also couldn't deny suddenly that he was _more._

 _He's not a god,_ Rosa chastised him in his memory. _He never was._

Yet right now the creature before him was _more_ than mere man. He must be thousands of years old, with fathomless experience and memory. The weight of that pressed on Tal now, making him shrink back, feeling small. As much as he bristled at it, he saw himself as a squawking child, railing against a world he didn't understand to an adult who was bone tired and brimming with despair. That weariness could tip swiftly into rage.

He remembered again how quickly Rosa fell into the same emotional upheaval. Everything seemed to remind her of her losses. This man was the other half of that loss. He had not lost a mother or a father—at least not in recent times, probably—as Rosa had, but he had lost Elia.

"I do what must be done," Fen'Harel said in a harsh whisper. "It is either my life now or all will be lost."

Tal's stomach flip-flopped. "I'm…" His voice croaked to his shame. He cleared it. "I'm sorry. She told me about…Elia."

The wolf god's lips puckered and his chin wrinkled for an instant. Then he looked away. Shoulders squared and back ramrod straight, he marched forward. His golden armor glittered beneath the darkness of the headdress. A number of the Elvhen guards rushed after him and came up behind Tal, clearly intending to drag him in Fen'Harel's wake. Tal hurried before they could touch him.

From the dais behind them came Alexius' concerned cry. "Felix!"

"It's okay," Cole called to him. "He will save him. He hurts with the same pain as you. He's going to help you so you can help him."

"Let him go, Alexius," Dorian said in a soothing voice. "It can't hurt. He's lost as he is. Maybe the elves truly can help him?"

I…I hope…" Alexius said, his voice haggard.

When Tal glanced behind he saw Cole walking with the withered Felix in his arms, following the Elvhen guards. They overtook Fen'Harel, passing by where Rosa stood aloof like a sentry at the archway she created into the throne room. Cole with Felix and the Elvhen guards entered the great hall, but Tal dragged his feet, trying to stay near his sister.

Fen'Harel—or Solas, it was hard to think of them as one and the same, but the headdress made Tal oscillate toward thinking of him as the god—stopped in the archway. The lovers stared at one another in tense silence, blind to Tal's presence. Tal had thought they bid one another goodbye earlier, but it seemed they had unfinished business of some sort. Or, well, of _every_ sort judging by the tumult of emotions Tal could feel thickening the air and darkening their features. Rosa's eyes were wet though she didn't shed any tears. Her lips twisted in a trembling frown and her nostrils flared with each breath. Fen'Harel's eyes and most of his nose remained obscured, but his lips, chin, and breath echoed Rosa's, only marginally better controlled.

"You broke your promise," Fen'Harel said, but his voice was the sad scholarly Solas', with no hint of the cold commanding wolf-god.

"Payback," Rosa said tightly. The anger in her eyes was hard to behold. What had he done to hurt her so much? Tal's heart ached and his eyes stung with sympathy for her—yet whatever lay between them Solas clearly loved her, still. It was hard not to pity him as well. There was too much emotion on his side for it to be an act.

The wolf god drew in a small breath. "It was unfair of me to extract that promise."

And with that the resentment and rage in Rosa's face broke, becoming despair and heartache instead. The love in her eyes brought out the tears that rage couldn't. She let out a strangled sob. The sound pierced Tal like a blade and he cringed, averting his eyes. This was an intimate moment, one he shouldn't see, but he snuck side glances anyway.

Rosa pressed close to him and whispered, _"Vhenan._ Come back to us. _Please."_

Solas was silent except for a ragged breath. Then he said, _"Sa'rajelan."_ The title drew Tal into staring openly again at his sister and her scholarly-wolf-obsessed-semi-god lover. It meant _First Commander._ Rosa truly was his top general.

Fen'Harel reached up and removed the headdress, revealing a familiar bald, pale, smooth-skinned Elvhen man beneath. He extended the headdress out to her like a gift. Rosa shook her head, anger contorting her features again. "No."

"The People will need a leader," he said, soft but implacable. "You are the strongest. I do not ask this lightly. I know it places you at great risk, but the People need you."

She bared her teeth as she shook her head, harder now. "If you're not afraid of putting me in danger then _take me with you."_

Solas' expression pinched with grief. "I cannot allow you to walk the _din'an shiral._ There is no reason we must both die today." He pushed the headdress toward her again.

This time Rosa's ferocity and strength must have deserted her. She accepted the headdress, shoulders shaking as she swallowed sobs. "Just…come back," she cried, staring down into the headdress. "Come back and… _I forgive you."_

Solas now choked slightly. _"Vhenan,"_ he said, clearly struggling to maintain some composure. He stepped back from her, completely releasing the wolf headdress and turning toward the great hall, his back to Tal and his side now to Rosa. "I do not deserve your forgiveness, but… _ma serannas,"_ he said, voice raw. Then he said, _"Ar lath ma, Rosa."_

He strode past her, sans the headdress now, straight-backed and tense. He didn't look back. Rosa watched him, shaking, and Tal stood frozen, paralyzed with all the strangeness of this day. How was he supposed to abandon his sister after all this? Even though she said it was what she wanted…

The image of her clutching the wolf headdress, quaking with suppressed sobs, felt as though it was seared into his brain. This was all a strange, heartbreaking nightmare. It couldn't be real.

But then Rosa turned and, seeing him, let the wolf headdress drop to the floor as reached for him. When they embraced she felt sturdy and real. Her breath when it hit his skin was warm. Her Elvhen armor was cold and hard. The wolf fur over her shoulder was coarse like a real pelt. And when he pulled back from her and felt a wayward tear—his or Rosa's, he couldn't tell—fall onto his lips, the taste of it was rich and salty.

"Save my baby," she told him, ragged with her tears. "Remember what I told you?"

"Brycen," Tal replied immediately. "He was a prick from Hasmal. And Imshael. He orchestrated it. And you should _never_ travel with Elia to the Brecilian."

Rosa nodded. "And tell me that Elia died to punish _Solas._ It was always about _Solas._ Not Mythal. Not Dirthamen, or Falon—"

Tal gasped as he made the connection. "It was about _Fen'Harel._ They came after Elia because of _him?"_

His sister pinched her lips together bitterly and nodded.

"Is that…is that what you forgave him for?" Tal asked quietly, sheepish at eavesdropping on what was clearly such a private, intimate moment.

Now anger darkened her cheeks anew but Tal was sure it wasn't the question that set her off. It was more complex than that, it always was. Solas…or Fen'Harel…had done something worse than unintentionally bringing danger to Eliana. Tal should have known better than to assume it was something like that. Loss could have made her irrational, but surely the mutual loss of their daughter was something they shared in common, not something that drove them apart. After all, who could understand better such a tragedy?

She didn't answer his question. Instead she said, "In your world there's a chance nothing like this will ever happen. Tell the other me she can't change the past. She has to focus on protecting the future." She squeezed him where she held his arms. "Promise you'll tell the other me that?"

"I promise," Tal said and meant it. He returned her squeeze with one his own on her shoulders. "And you promise me—whatever happens here…" He felt his eyes smart and sniffed, trying hard not to cry again. "Whether he comes back or not. You won't give up. You fight on like Rogathe would want. Like I'd want. Like your _mamae_ wanted."

She nodded, struggling to remain stoic. "I promise, _da'isamalin._ "

And then an Elvhen woman in the shiny Elvhenan plate armor was at his side, glowering stiffly as though with disapproval—yet Tal saw grief in her blue eyes. "Go," she ordered Tal, gruffly. "Do as Fen'Harel bids you."

Reluctantly, Tal let go of Rosa and let the Elvhen woman shoo him into the great hall where he found the other elven guards stood in a circle with Solas, Cole, and Felix at the center. Solas had one arm out, gold-green magic swirling outward to engulf Felix's withered form. His brow furrowed with concentration. Light glittered and Fade ether coiled in the circle, drawn closer to Solas as though he had a pull like gravity.

A small wisp darted behind Felix, white and mostly translucent. It hummed a soft, pleasant song at first, but then its tune warped slightly, as though it suffered. Solas spoke gently in elven, _"I know, my friend. There is no need for you to take it all. I am sorry to have caused you pain."_

With his other hand he motioned and a green gold shimmer appeared in the air, a tiny tear in what was left of the shattered Veil. The wisp flittered and darted into it. In another heartbeat a second wisp appeared, this one a vibrant shade of green. It began to sing as well, trilling a different song. This one dimmed and warbled as if with pain after a few seconds as well.

Yet it persisted until finally Solas let the magic about Felix diminish. The young Tevinter man collapsed, boneless. Cole rushed in, catching him. Solas brought out another tear and the green wisp disappeared, returning to the Fade. On the ground Felix looked pallid and wizened, like a starved man, a shadow of the one Tal had seen at Redcliffe with the rebel mages—but he wasn't withered with Blight.

He was cured, ostensibly.

"Mathrel," Solas called to one of the guards. An arcane warrior in glittering plate armor stepped forward, dipping his head with respect. "Take Felix to Alexius. Tell him and Dorian they must have the amulet working in the next five minutes."

The guard nodded and then stooped, collecting Felix from Cole.

Solas turned now to Tal, his expression grim. "Herald," he said. "Thank you for giving us Rogathe." He smiled tightly. "It was a pleasure knowing you, _Talassan._ Your father would have been proud of you."

"What?" Tal asked, taken aback. "My father…? You knew my—you knew…" He frowned, trying to recall which of his father's names Solas would have known him by. "Ivun?"

"I knew him by a different name, one that he did not share with either you or Rosa," Solas admitted and then the tight smile turned sad. "Fenesvir." _The way of the wolf._

Tal stared, forgetting to blink for a long moment as the realization set in of just what Solas was telling him. _"Babae_ served Fen—he served _you?"_

Solas looked away when he nodded once. "There is something you can do for me, if you would be so kind."

Tal shrugged, still reeling from this latest revelation and the questions it raised. Like, did _Rev—Solas_ know who their father was a year ago in Tal's original timeline? Had he known who their father was since meeting them? If he did know, why hadn't he brought it up? Or, well, maybe he had, but not with Tal. He'd have to ask Rosa when he got back to his reality in the past.

Solas grabbed the pendant he wore about his neck—a _wolf jaw_ Tal realized and almost let out a quick guffaw of realization. Solas lifted it over his head and extended it out to Tal. "Please give this to my younger self."

"You want me to tell you anything?" Tal asked as he tentatively handled the pendant, then pulled it over his head.

"No," Solas said and left it at that. He turned slightly and motioned at the rumpled, torn rug lying over the great hall's stone floor. "The time has come. Please, step beside me and give me your left hand."

Tal tensed, considering refusing. If he denied Solas this would it force the big bald idiot to do something differently? But then again he thought of Solas' look when he said _It is either my life now or all is lost_ and decided he didn't want to stand in his way. Man or god, if Solas was right, Tal would doom everyone by refusing to help.

He moved to Solas' side, shooting him anxious, worried looks. The Elvhen man paid him no mind as he grasped Tal's left forearm and lifted it in a gentle grip. Tal winced as he felt a pulse shoot through his forearm. The mark activated in a worse pain than usual. It felt like a knife was inside the fine bones of his hand, twisting this way and that, trying to pry the tendons apart and split the palm. He whimpered and then cried out, shaking to his shame.

"Only a moment longer," Solas said in a surprisingly gentle voice. Fatherly.

Tal breathed in and out, trying to block the pain from his mind. A sharp ringing noise and a slick _boom_ rippled through the air. The waft of air hit Tal hard, but with Solas bolstering him he didn't waver. He blinked through tears and saw the green-white streak of the mark's magic, usually used for sealing rifts, now shot out at the floor. Green-white Fade ether shimmered and dribbled like slime from a larger and larger tear. Then it popped with a flash of brightness, groaning in the strange song of the Fade, hanging just above the floor and large enough for a man to step through with ease.

Now Solas released Tal's hand. The mark went dead at once. As if _Solas_ was its master, not Tal at all.

Cradling his left hand, Tal's shoulders heaved as he narrowed his eyes at Solas, realizing that must be the case indeed. The mark was _Solas'._ That meant Tal's initial blurry suspicions that the apostate mage from Hasmal was involved with the Conclave somehow must be true after all. He and Rosa had known since their days in the Circle that Revas…er, Solas, had a powerful foci that could cause a major catastrophe like the Conclave explosion. The tearing a hole in the Veil thing was a surprise, and Tal had no idea how the Anchor fit in with it, but he knew it did now, somehow.

Solas stared at the portal-like rift, flickering green-white. The grim despair on his face aged him at least a decade, but his body was still that of a young, strong man. Cole was at his side then, speaking in a hurried, rough whisper. "Lethanavir is awake inside him now. He needs your help before you go."

Solas cocked his head at this and then turned, craning to look back at where Tal stood hunched over, still cradling his hand. "Interesting," he said, but his expression didn't change from the look of despair. He turned back to Cole. "Make sure you leave the memory of Lethanavir with him."

"You will help him? In the past?" Cole asked as Tal went cold at the offhand comment Solas made about _leave the memory_.

"Yes," Solas said, dipping his chin. Then he reached out, laying a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Thank you, _falon._ Please, if you can, look after her and our child."

"Yes," Cole said, affection and pain mingling on his face, childlike but resigned and wise. "Maybe…I will see you again someday?"

Solas smiled at him, sad. "Perhaps." He let his hand fall from Cole. "Farewell." He glanced one last time then at Tal and nodded once. _"Dareth shiral, Talassan."_

Then Solas stepped into the green-white shimmering, twisting glow of the rift-portal. The guards in the circle around them rushed after him. The rift flickered with each elf passing through it, hissing and fluctuating. The Veil was warped, twisted and fractured. Tal caught a glimpse through it of dark arches, a glitter of crimson from what might have been red lyrium.

Then Cole was at his side. Tal flinched away from him, snarling. "Don't touch me. Stay out of my head."

He whipped around, dizzy and unsteady, searching for Rosa. He found her standing in the archway—but she wasn't his sister anymore, not really. She'd donned the headdress, taking on the persona of the wolf god. The only difference was that her armor was silver where his had been gold, her wolf pelt was black while his was gray. Her armor revealed only the faintest feminine form. Unless she spoke or one of the soldiers knew Solas well enough to recognize this figure was shorter in stature, no one would know the difference.

"Cole," she called, her voice deep and rough. "Leave him alone." She motioned slightly to the Elvhen woman still at her side. The woman stepped forward, moving to Tal authoritatively. Tal tensed, fearing even Rosa might insist on some kind of memory wipe now. But what she said was, "It's time for you to go back. Now. Before the Elder One or the Evanuris interrupt."

Tal let the Elvhen woman shepherd him back to the throne room. He risked a look over his shoulder and saw Cole was following, wringing his hands anxiously. And behind him the rift stood open. All of the guards in the great hall had gone with Solas into the Fade.

As he passed Rosa in the headdress, Tal asked, "Don't you want me to close that rift?"

She shook her head slightly, making the wolf move. "There's no point. The Veil will be gone in a few moments."

"Gone?" Tal repeated, horrified. "But how will you all survive?"

"The People will survive because it is how we were meant to live," Rosa said, walking with him into the throne room. "We will be immortal again without the Veil."

"Immortal?" Tal said, gawping as they reached the front of the throne room where Alexius and Dorian still worked on the amulet. Green energy flickered and flashed, growing faster around the hovering amulet.

Felix sat slumped in what had once been his father's throne. He was awake, though he appeared exhausted. He smiled at Tal, his expression slightly quizzical. Then he lifted a hand and waved tentatively.

Tal waved back, dazed but happy that at least this small wrong had been righted in this strange world. He saw Alexius kept losing focus on the amulet, lifting his head and looking to his son. Tears of joy streamed down his face. As Rosa walked around Tal to stand closer to the remnants of the Inquisition, the magister called out to her, "Thank you. Whatever you need, however I can repay you…"

"Imshael," Rosa said and Alexius blinked, clearly startled as he realized the wolf god had Rosa's voice. "You can repay me by helping me kill the demon Imshael. But first we must survive the Evnauris."

"And first the two of you need to _stop talking_ so I can get this working," Dorian snapped. Alexius returned to work, frantic—right as a screech echoed through the castle walls.

"The Elder One's wretched Blight dragon is here," Rosa snarled. "You're out of time, Magisters."

"I'm an Altus," Dorian shot back, rolling his eyes. "How many times do I have to tell you Southerners? There _is_ a difference. Not _all_ mages from Tevinter are M _agisters."_

"The Veil is going to collapse at any moment," Rosa said. "I have more important things to worry about than your title."

"What?" Sera asked, shooting up to her feet, only to sway slightly, ill as she was with red lyrium poisoning. "The Veil's coming down? Already down, innit?"

Rosa turned slightly to glance at the archer, but she didn't bother answering her. Cassandra breathed out something that might have been a prayer or an oath, it was hard to tell. "Maker help us."

Varric sighed. "I wish I had some whiskey."

Leliana just remained silent, staring off into space. Tal wondered how much they overheard between he and Rosa here in the throne room, and then again between he and "Fen'Harel." Did they realize Solas was the wolf god? If they did it must offer some comfort. Otherwise Leliana and Cassandra might be having existential crises, worrying their Maker couldn't be real if the elven pantheon was real instead. Cassandra would probably be unshaken by such a thought since she'd made it a point to ask Tal if he could believe in both the Maker, Andraste, and the elven gods. Leliana, meanwhile, was already troubled in Haven after the Conclave explosion. This latest assault on her faith might have broken her.

At least they probably recognized Rosa's voice now under the headdress. They could take some comfort in imagining the role was spread around, shared by multiple elves. The same way they said Shartan in the Chant wasn't one man but a group of elven leaders among the escaped slaves.

Another screech rocked the castle. Rosa walked toward the dais, her posture stiff with impatience. "You need to go back. _Now._ Cast the spell."

"Patience, wolf girl," Dorian said in a tight singsong. "Patience…"

"I'll be patient when I'm dead," Rosa snapped. "Now, Altus, if you please…"

"I think that's done it," Alexius said, breathing roughly. "But the positioning…"

"Yes, yes," Dorian said and scuttled around the other side of the dais, motioning at Tal to join him. "We need to be _precisely_ where we were when we left for this to work." He took Tal by the bicep, maneuvering him firmly but gently into position at his side. "I think…was this it?"

Tal's head was so full of all he'd learned he couldn't remember, so he didn't answer. The reality of a year ago—mere hours, really—was dreamlike and hazy. As the magic of the amulet grew, swelling open to gradually form another portal, he kept lifting his head, looking to where Rosa stood near the remaining Inquisition. The headdress covered her eyes, but he guessed if he could see her she'd be struggling not to cry.

" _I'll remember,"_ he shouted to her in elven and then, in common, "I'll keep Elia safe. I swear on _Babae's_ memor—"

And then his head suddenly pounded. He bit his tongue, gasping, and tasted blood. He heard an angry shout from Rosa, furious and full of anguish. _"No! Cole! No! Stop!"_

His knees turned to rubber and his guts seemed to wriggle like worms. He swayed, as did Dorian. A white green flash blinded him, surging up like a hungry mouth. The last thing he saw was the huddle of the red lyrium poisoned Inquisition, a woman in Elvhenan armor, and then a figure in a wolf headdress. _Fen'Harel?_

And from behind him he heard someone whisper sadly, "I promised him I would. I'm sorry. I left everything I could."

The green-white mouth of the time portal swallowed he and Dorian whole.

* * *

With a _whump-pop_ a greenish ball of light and something misty that could have been Fade ether appeared in the space where Tal and Dorian stood. It rippled and swirled like a whirlpool, dazzling and beautiful—and then it winked out of existence.

Dorian and Tal both fell to their knees in a simultaneous loud thumps, breathing rough and fast. Their clothing was dirty, wet around the legs. A scent like bile wafted over to Solas and he recoiled on instinct for an instant before lurching forward to help. "Herald!"

Alexius gawked from the dais, eyes wide and round. He stumbled toward his throne, reaching out with one hand without looking at it. Whatever he expected to happen, this wasn't it.

Tal groaned, clutching his middle. Solas heard Cassandra's boots scuffing the stone and then the rug in the throne room as she raced to help him. Sera came to Dorian's aid, helping the mage upright with considerably less effort. The human seemed to shake off whatever happened faster. In a few heartbeats he was up, blinking at the throne room. Meanwhile Tal dry heaved onto the stone.

Summoning healing energy, Solas pressed his hand to Tal's back. Had Alexius hit him with a spirit-wasting spell? The mana returned to Solas, unused. He frowned, confused as Tal heaved again, breathing raggedly and groaning with pain.

"Fuuuuuuck," the Herald said. "Feels like fucking Fen'Harel is gnawing on my guts."

Solas frowned at the curse but quickly wiped the expression away as shock reverberated through him. There, flopping against Tal's chest, was the lacquered wolf jawbone. Solas withdrew suddenly, mouth ajar. He felt at his chest in a confused panic—only to find the same lacquered jawbone still under his tunic.

 _How…?_

"Well," Dorian said, still unsteady on his feet but affecting a smug swagger as he surveyed the throne room. "You'll have to do better than…whatever that was, Alexius."

The Magister sank into the throne, defeated. "You…you win. There's no point to continuing this charade."

Felix moved to comfort his father and that drew Dorian's attention. "Felix!" he cried, smiling almost drunkenly. "You're looking marvelous now! See, it all worked out, didn't it?"

Felix stopped, shooting Dorian a confused look. The young man looked no different than he had a few moments ago, before Alexius cast his strange spell. He was pallid and with gray bags beneath his eyes, the mark of the Blight growing within him, eating him slowly. Alexius lifted his head and snarled at Dorian, but he said nothing as Inquisition scouts with Leliana moved forward to arrest him.

"Why is everyone looking at me like I've grown a second head?" Dorian asked, smirking. "I know it's rare to see a mustache as lovingly cultivated as mine, but really, it's not worth all this staring."

"What spell did you cast on them?" Solas asked, addressing Alexius.

The magister frowned at him, but he seemed weary, uninterested in being difficult now that he'd admitted defeat. "I tried to remove them from time."

"Yes," Dorian agreed. "With that amulet we made together in Minrathous. Marvelous little thing, wasn't it?" He glanced down at where Tal still sat hunched over, clearly in pain. "Oh, dear. I see you had a rough go of it again, Herald."

"What happened to you?" Cassandra asked, sounding flustered. She still knelt beside Tal, trying to comfort him.

"Alexius' spell displaced us in time," Dorian said. "Sent us a year into the future." He motioned at Tal. "Elves don't take too well to it, apparently. He was like this the whole way, poor thing."

 _Displaced in time?_ Solas felt absently over the lacquered jawbone at his throat as his eyes drifted down to Tal. The jawbone there, identical, rested on the Herald's heaving chest. _He spoke to me in the future._

"We must discuss this in private," Cassandra said, adopting a leadership role as she so often did.

Leliana was at her side now as her scouts marched off with Alexius in shackles. She frowned with concern down at their ailing Herald. "Was he drinking?"

"No," Dorian said. "He's just been ill like this since we passed through the time portal. It passed after a time. I'm sure he'll be fine." He gazed at Solas. "You already tried to heal him once, didn't you?"

"Yes," Solas said.

Dorian nodded knowingly. "And the mana just comes right back out because there's nothing to heal. Right?"

"Yes," Solas confirmed again with a slight nod.

"There you have it," Dorian said, smiling. "Nothing to worry about." He paused then, staring at Solas with a furrowed brow. He grimaced, scratching his head. "I….erm, I'm sorry, but I've forgotten your name. It was…Sol—wait, no, don't tell me…"

Solas' blood flashed ice cold. His heart jumped into his throat, pounding away. "My name is Revas."

"Ah," Dorian said, smiling almost sheepishly. "That's right. Sorry about that. I wasn't even close."

Then, suddenly, Tal lurched to his feet, startling the two women standing over him. They both reached for him, as did Sera who came nimbly in trying to support him from around Dorian. Tal let them take his weight, but he fought and twisted until he managed to turn around. He lifted red-rimmed eyes, staring at Solas blearily. He looked like he'd been crying, hard. He also looked like he needed to sleep in uthenera for about a decade at least.

"I remember," he croaked at Solas. "I'm supposed to tell you…" His head slumped, but he forced out another word before passing out. _"Lethanavir."_

"Herald?" Cassandra asked, alarmed. She slapped at his cheeks. "Herald!"

Leliana checked his pulse. Her posture eased. "He's just passed out. He must be exhausted."

"Alexius and I didn't expect elves to use the amulet," Dorian said, shrugging. "Clearly it doesn't agree with him."

Solas remained silent, staring at their unconscious Herald, his heart still beating out a fast rhythm. _Lethanavir._ He licked his lips. "I will tend him."

"I was going to call for an herbalist," Leliana said. "They'll know how to treat him since Dorian says it isn't magic based."

"I am something of an herbalist myself," Solas said and he wasn't lying. "I am also more knowledgeable regarding elven afflictions. Unless your herbalist is elven, Lady Nightingale, I believe I am still the best healer for our Herald."

Leliana eyed him a moment, doubtless sensing he had some other motive. But she offered no resistance as she nodded. "I agree. Here, take him."

Solas stepped forward and collected the Herald, his mind already churning with how he was going to treat an ailment no one had seen for the better part of two or three thousand years. _Lethanavir,_ he thought, bemused and amused simultaneously. Tal might be removed from Falon'Din by several generations at this point, but the blood talents of some of the Evanuris were hard to stamp out.

That was all the more worrying for Eliana. At least he knew the patterns of inheritance for Falon'Din, Mythal, Dirthamen, and Elgar'nan. No one even knew what Solas' inheritable talents were. Fen'Harel had never had offspring—until now.

* * *

 **Next Chapter:**

Tal grabbed at his stomach as another wave of nausea swept over him. He forced himself to speak over it. "Who the fuck is Solas?"

The apostate lifted his gaze to Tal and swallowed audibly. "I am."

* * *

Well, I hope not everyone wants to kill me! LOL. Tal learned almost everything...and then Cole took almost all of it away. But this little time traveling misadventure will continue to have repercussions!

Thank you Cookie as always for reviewing! And yeah, Tal spent so much of this hella confused! LOL. I might explore Tal's Lethanavir necromancy here differently, yeah. Or it will at least be more front and center because we'll have him narrating way more often. I've never GM'ed before, no, so if I did it'd be a brand new experience. We have a great group though, so maybe someday.

Weird side note, I have actually never written a male-male romance. And as I start exploring that with Tal, I hope I'm getting it OK-ish. I generally don't read m/m fiction, but the Dorian romance from what I've seen seems so genuinely adorable and sweet. Rosa doesn't jive with Dorian as well as my other Inky Ellana in "Pride Didn't Go" so I put him in here less. But with Tal...yeah, he's going to be here a lot more and I just hope I do it justice.


	13. Droopy Ears the Forgettable

**Thirteen**

Droopy Ears the Forgettable

* * *

"Save my baby," Rosa shouted to him, crying. Her eyes were rimmed in black makeup, like she'd smeared coal from the fire around them. Her tears made the makeup run in black streaks, like ink running on parchment. But that wasn't the disturbing part. Her eyes, the _eyeballs_ , were empty black holes. The sight made Tal recoil, revolted.

'Rosa' lunged after him, grabbing for him and continuing to plead. "Save Elia, you promised you'd help me! You promised you'd remember!"

"I will, I will," Tal shouted back at her and then amended, "I _do_ remember, _asamalin._ Brycen. Imshael. Don't go to the Brecilian with Eliana, ever. And it's not about Dirthamen, it's about…"

Fuck, why was it so hard to remember her apostate lover's name? Revas? No, that wasn't right. He had another name. More than one, just like _babae._ Because he was Elvhen, not Dalish, not elven. Elvhen always had more than one name because of their long lives.

'Rosa' had stopped, nodding to him. The anguish in her features eased somewhat. Her presence radiated cold, as if she was undead—from the grave. Her fingers were so thin they were skeletal as she reached for him again. Tal took a step back once more, wary. His instinct told him something was obviously not right here and he _thought_ he knew what it was. He was dreaming. This wasn't real.

Unfortunately, Tal hadn't inherited Felassan's Dreamer capabilities so he had no way to banish this dream. He'd ever been at Rosa's mercy when it came to dreamscapes. His sister chose whether they met in the Fade at night. His sister chose and shaped the setting, too. But this wasn't his sister now. It was a demon of some kind. Although they hunted him with less persistence than they did Rosa, demons were a common occurrence in Tal's dreams all the same.

"He took so much from you," the demon-Rosa cried. "He stole the memories. I know I broke my promise, but…"

A wave of dizziness passed over Tal. He swayed and the demon Rosa became transparent. _Oh, good,_ Tal thought. _I'm waking._

A few seconds later he wished he was unconscious again as his stomach cramped. He sat up suddenly, gripping his middle and groaning. "Fuuuuuuuck….."

"It's all right, _lethallin,"_ a soft male voice said soothingly. He felt a hand on his shoulder, trying to ease him back to the bed…actually, it was a cot. Tal blinked through the dimness, realizing he was inside a canvas tent, one of the Inquisition tents Josephine commissioned for their troops at great expense. Cassandra liked to fret about that sort of thing and worried about it on the road, usually in his earshot.

He let the hand push him back to the cot and turned his head, seeing Rosa's ex-lover baby daddy sitting beside him. A small candle on a little writing desk behind the apostate provided weak illumination, but Tal could see the other man's face was tight with something like apprehension.

"What's…what happened?" Tal croaked.

The other man smiled. "I was about to ask you that question, Herald. Do you not remember?"

Tal frowned, fighting _hard_ to root out something. Had he been wounded? Was that why his guts hurt so much? He felt over his middle but nothing on the surface was tender and there were no bandages. It should have been a relief, but it just left him with more questions.

His sister's lover cleared his throat and said, "We are in Redcliffe, camped outside the castle. The Magister, Alexius, invited us here in what was obviously a trap. He planned to kill you, using time magic. We were in the throne room when Leliana's scouts arrived, as we planned. But Alexius released a spell, hoping to erase you from time. He hit you and Dorian, but nothing appeared to happen." He dipped his chin, smiling grimly. "Except something _did_ happen. Dorian says you and he traveled a year into the future. I do not know the specifics. The Seeker and Lady Nightingale are with Dorian right now discussing what he recalls."

Tal saw shadow shapes from his memory that matched what this man told him. He nodded slowly. "I think I remember the throne room. And the time portal…looked like a green whirlpool…?"

The other man nodded with more energy now, smiling slightly with encouragement. "Yes. You are correct." But then he leaned forward, his eyes intense and searching. "What else do you remember?"

Tal's diaphragm hurt. It felt like he broke ribs somewhere along the way, but nothing hurt to press on. Just to breathe. His mouth tasted vile. His eyes were gritty and tired, like he'd been crying a lot—weird. The last time he'd been so emotional was…maybe the funeral for the elves who died at the Conclave? Or further back, when he wandered off into the forest around clan Manaria to find solitude and sobbed wretchedly about what he'd done to his Keeper Nola and that she apparently didn't love him the way he hoped.

The thought of Nola shook loose a strange image. He saw his Keeper standing in her armor atop the gray stone of a crumbled wall. Her eyes followed him, sad. The sky behind her in the image was an ugly, horrifying green like the Fade but caught in a drain and swirling down.

 _Like the whole world was being sucked into the Breach._

Tal groaned and covered his face with his hands. "I can't remember much. I…" He recalled landing in water, vomiting violently. Screams echoed in his head. The castle trembled. "I was sick, like a lot."

His caretaker's brow furrowed with concern. "Dorian says the passage through time made you ill, but I am confident it was not that which has affected you." He smiled grimly again and the expression shook loose another strange image inside Tal: this man, in Elvhenan armor, standing with a large Fade rift in front of him.

"Rosa has told me of your Elvhen ancestor, I believe she said his name was Ivun…"

"Yeah," Tal said, grimacing when he caught a whiff of his own breath. Yuck, that was rank.

"She told me he was a descendant of Mythal and Elgar'nan. She confided in me recently that Dirthamen was his father. Your grandfather." He paused a moment, eyes searching Tal. "She has not mentioned who your grandmother was. But I believe I know now based on your illness. You mentioned _Lethanavir_ when you emerged from the time portal."

"Falon'Din?" Tal asked, confused. "Why would I mention him?" Lethanavir was another name for Falon'Din. "And he couldn't possibly be my grandma, if you know what I mean. Wrong bits and all."

"No," he agreed, "but I believe your father, this Ivun, was a direct descendant of Falon'Din, within about five generations. That would explain your symptoms. Disciples of Falon'Din often displayed an illness like this when they first manifested the talent of communicating with the dead." He made a face, as though he didn't approve. "I know little of the talent, but I believe the study of necromancy may aid you. And I _do_ know a spell to block the voices of the dead, which should provide you relief from the illness you've experienced."

Relief made Tal sigh. He thumped his head to the pillow. "You are a lifesaver…" He strained hard, trying to find this man's name. Why was it so hard to remember? He _knew_ this man, and knew him well. Or, as well as the apostate let him. It was clear he trusted Rosa more than Tal.

His cheeks were hot as he realized he was going to have to ask. "Um. Sorry, but, f _enedhis,_ I've somehow forgotten your name."

Now his caretaker froze, staring at him with narrowed eyes. The temperature inside the tent seemed to fall ten degrees. Was this guy really that angry with him for forgetting his name? Couldn't he see Tal had been through an _awful_ last couple hours? And the time portal might indeed have fucked him over as much as this strange new Lethanavir necromancy.

The apostate touched the pendant around his neck in a motion that Tal recognized as a habit of his. He pinched his lips together and his blue eyes darted toward Tal's chest for a moment, then back. "Can you guess my name?"

"You think I haven't been trying?" Tal quipped, chuckling dryly, only to wince with pain. All the vomiting and dry-heaving really had left him sore. "It's not that I don't know who you are. You're Rosa's lover. You're Elia's father…"

Saying his niece's name made him gasp. He shot upright on the cot, heart pounding. He swayed in place but the apostate's steadying hand on his back kept him from collapsing back to the cot. "I remember something. Shit. Fuck." He looked at the apostate, his eyes stinging as he tried to restrain the sudden surge of grief. Now he knew why he felt like he'd been crying.

"Elia's in danger," he blurted and the apostate's expression warped with something dangerous and deadly—even though his blue eyes widened with fear, too. "She was killed in the future. Rosa gave me a message. I'm supposed to tell her to watch out for Brycen and Imshael. And she can't travel to the Brecilian with Eliana. _Ever._ And the demons hunting her…" He struggled with dizziness again. This part of it was hazy and hard to recall. "They're not after her because of Dirthamen or Mythal or…" He frowned, trying to remember the important bit of that sentence. "It's about…." A name floated to him. "…Solas?"

The man beside him recoiled, scowling. One hand still rested on the pendant he wore. "I see."

Tal grabbed at his stomach as another wave of nausea swept over him. He forced himself to speak over it. "Who the fuck is Solas?"

The apostate lifted his gaze to Tal and swallowed audibly. "I am."

" _You?"_

He nodded once, somberly. His fingers moved over the pendant again and his dark blue eyes drifted to Tal's chest again. "You said it was Rosa who gave you this message?"

"Yeah," Tal said, remembering hazy images of his sister beside him, her eyes wet with tears and her chin wrinkling with grief so vast it was difficult to fathom.

The apostate— _Solas?—_ reached out with the hand that'd been touching his pendant toward Tal's chest. His hand shook slightly as he touched Tal. Glancing down, Tal gawped as he realized he wore the same pendant. He grabbed it, bringing it out of his shirt completely so both he and the apostate could see it clearly.

"This is yours?" he asked, even though he already knew the answer. An identical pendant was sitting squarely on the apostate's chest.

"It is," he said, swallowing again. "Did Rosa give you this?" Although the apostate had pointed out the pendant, he didn't touch it. He seemed almost afraid of it.

Tal hesitated, thinking. "No. I don't think so." He saw the image of this man, Solas, standing in front of the Fade rift. "You gave it to me." He stared wide-eyed at the apostate. "You were there."

Solas' eyes shut with something like relief. "I see."

"How in the void did I forget your name?" Tal asked, shaking his head—only to break off and groan. "Oh, that was a mistake."

"Lie back," Solas told him. "Let me cast the spell to ease the illness. You must rest. I suspect your memories will settle with time."

"Don't have time," Tal mumbled. "Elia's in danger."

Solas let out a small but heavy breath. "Elia has always been in danger simply by virtue of her relation to me." He reached out with one hand, the palm glowing a soft blue.

"Oh," Tal said, snorting. "Fun. Remind me not to know you again when I wake up if it's so dangerous."

"She will be protected with your warning," Solas reassured him as he laid his hand on Tal's shoulder. The mana of a spell Tal didn't know sank into his skin and he shivered with visceral relief as he felt the tension in his guts ease. "I will be vigilant."

Lassitude hit Tal hard. He struggled to reply to Solas but the darkness swallowed him before he could get his numbed lips to move.

* * *

As soon as Tal had fallen unconscious with Solas' magic—he'd used both the spell to ease the illness and a potent one to make Tal sleep—Solas stared down at the Herald. He was cold and clammy with sweat. One hand felt reverently over the lacquered jawbone he wore while his eyes rested on the one laying against Tal's chest.

He'd feared the jawbone was a signal that his other self had died in the future. That seemed unlikely, thankfully, in talking further with Tal. Yet hearing Eliana had been killed because of him left Solas numb, halfway paralyzed with fear. Would Tal's warning be enough that he could protect his daughter? If his other self hadn't managed it, how could he expect to fare any better?

 _The jawbone._ He suspected his other self had poured every tiny detail, every sliver of memory that might help Solas now, before it was too late, into that simple pendant. It would not show anything to Tal, of course, but when Solas touched it he had no doubt the jawbone would deliver a thorough and devastating message from his future self.

Solas dreaded receiving that message. Even from the tiny fragments of the future he gleaned from talking with Tal, Solas knew it was a dismal time. And it might be inevitable, completely unavoidable. He might find there was no way he could save Eliana. This warning might thwart his enemies' first attempt on his child's life, but unless he managed to kill them there'd always be another, future threat. The risk Eliana carried in simply being his child was one vital reason he'd never fathered any offspring or let himself love unrestrainedly in Elvhenan. Rosa was the first to have taken his heart so completely. The idea of losing either of them was…unbearable.

And that was the horror his other self in this alternate timeline experienced.

He couldn't let his fear and weakness now prevent him from learning what wisdom and warnings his other self had imparted through time. If there was even a tiny chance he might save his daughter, or Rosa, by learning from his other self, no matter the pain, he _must_ do it.

Drawing in a shaky breath, Solas steeled himself and reached out with two fingers to hover over the jawbone on Tal's chest. He hesitated a beat and then touched the lacquered jaw. Just as he'd suspected, he immediately felt a tingle of magic trying to connect with him. Clenching his jaw and trying to calm his pounding heart, Solas closed his eyes and let the magic with its message flow.

Images and emotions slammed into him like a tidal wave. They stole his breath and crushed his heart. He lived what felt like another lifetime in the space of a few seconds. His other self was, as he'd feared, very thorough.

This was all part of a reality his other self knew wouldn't affect him, not for some time. Yet there were vital lessons to be had from it. _The Forbidden Ones will seek to kill Rosa and Eliana if they fear you are too powerful,_ his other self warned. _They will use any secrets you leave them to drive you and Rosa apart. I know you fear revealing the truth, but let my memories show that there are worse fates than our vhenan's anger. I would forfeit anything, even the restoration of Elvhenan, if I could save my daughter._

Solas jerked in reality, stunned at the dire conviction of his other self's will. He'd thought the loss of Elvhenan, the guilt of sundering the People from the Fade and taking their immortality were bad enough—the most terrible things he could endure. The devastation of losing a child was so much worse because it was personal. Eliana had become his other self's repository of hope for the future. The demons took it away when they killed her. Even the fact that Rosa remained at his side through it all was dim and dull comparatively.

Perhaps this grief would have faded over time. As Solas pulled his hand away from the jawbone he had a faint trace memory of bittersweet affection and remorse, a hint of hope for future he would not live to see. His other self had kept going, despite such tragedy. Rosa had as well. He even heard her voice whisper, "I forgive you."

Yet what remained with him above all was the imperative from the other Solas to protect Eliana by any means necessary.

And that means, first and foremost, was to ensure Imshael and his fellow demons had no purchase they cold use as leverage to separate he and Rosa.

He had to tell her the truth.

All of it.

* * *

By the time the Inquisition returned to Haven village, a strange thing had happened. The apostate formerly known as Revas had announced he had a second name—Solas. The news didn't startle Tal of course. Since the evening Solas helped him stave off the strange effects of his bizarre new necromancy magic he'd known his sister's lover had two names. He also knew that, for some odd reason, he'd forgotten them all briefly after his trip through time.

And, interestingly, Dorian had a similar experience. There were some jokes amongst the inner circle at both their expenses—something along the lines of Dorian and Tal getting so shitfaced drunk they managed to forget about Revas or Solas or whoever he was entirely. As Sera put it, "Droopy Ears _is_ kinda forgettable—unless you're Borsa."

Joking aside, no one appeared to think much of it, except Tal knew otherwise. He caught Leliana and Cassandra both shooting the apostate curious or even mildly suspicious stares during their journey home. He hoped Solas' name change wasn't going to cause trouble for him when they returned to Haven. It was unlikely the humans would find any dirt on either of his names, considering whatever skeletons Solas had buried in his past would be all the way back in Arlathan's court.

Still, something niggled him in the back of his mind when he considered those secrets. He knew they were there, just as he knew the Waking Sea had a bottom, even though he'd never seen it. It was the same with his memory of time travel. Most of the valuable information the Inquisition gleaned came from Dorian, not Tal at all. There were jokes from Sera that he must have been hung-over and drunk during the experience. Those comments stung him with shame and irritation. Luckily, Solas and Cassandra and Dorian were swift to defend him, chastising Sera that Tal was incredibly ill from the time portal. Dorian had witnessed this firsthand and thought it explained why Tal hadn't really ever recalled much of what happened in the dark future.

Sometimes Tal had half-formed dreams with what he thought might be memories from his trip through time. The image of Nola in her Keeper armor atop a crumbled wall. Solas standing before a large green-white rift, staring forlornly into it like a man facing his doom and resigned to it. Rosa in fine Elvhenan armor with one arm upright as she cast a golden domelike barrier. And a pallid young man in patchwork leather with a wide hat and blond hair.

The time magic had muddled his memories, somehow. He was missing something, something _huge._

On his first night back at Haven, sleeping in his comfy feather bed—the Inquisition really had splurged for the extra down covers in his absence, a fact Cassandra was sure to wring her hands about—Tal had another dream-memory. He was standing beside the dais in the Redcliffe castle throne room. Dorian was at his side, holding his forearm in a firm but gentle grip as he maneuvered him into position. But Tal kept staring past the other mage at where familiar Inquisition friends sat tensely in a red lyrium haze. He saw Sera, Varric, Cassandra, and Leliana, enraptured as they stared back at him.

And in front of them stood an elven woman that Tal didn't recognize in armor from Elvhenan. Beside her was the most bizarre thing—a lithe elven figure in silver Elvhen armor with a black pelt slung over one shoulder and wearing a massive wolf headdress. The black eyes of the wolf stared at him, stolid and dead, but haunting nonetheless. The wolf god's posture was stiff, on edge, his attention focused on Tal and Dorian, as though he held himself back from intervening.

" _Fen'Harel vir'enasalin!"_ cried a chorus of voices somewhere, distantly. _"Fen'Harel vir'enasalin!"_

"…The fuck?" he asked aloud in the dream, tugging against Dorian's grip. He frowned at the wolf god. This was just…weird. What was the trickster doing here?

And then the wolf god reached for him, shouting with alarm. _"Cole! No!"_

Fen'Harel had Rosa's voice.

Tal sat upright, panting and fighting the covers, doused in sweat. He let out a stunned cry and then fell in a tangle of limbs from the bed onto the chilly wood floor. In the darkness he heard Rosa moan sleepily and then Eliana let out a scared whimper.

"Shit," he cursed as he fully remembered where and when he was. This was his cabin, with that new down coverlet Josephine splurged on. Rosa was sleeping in a cot near the fireplace as she so frequently did. Eliana was with her, too, as the baby always was at night for feeding.

"Tal?" Rosa asked blearily.

A spark of light cut through the darkness. Then another. It was faintly tinged purple and Tal heard a crackle, followed by Rosa's gasp. "No, no, no, Elia."

"I fell out of bed," Tal admitted, sniffing as he tried to untangle himself from the covers with as much dignity as he could muster.

"Is everything all right?" Rosa asked and he heard her furs rustle as she sat up on her cot. A moment later she summoned fire in the palm of her hand, lightning the dark cabin. "The coals went out," she said, clucking her tongue.

"I had a nightmare," Tal told her, feeling sheepish. "No biggie. Sorry I woke you and Elia."

Rosa smiled at him from across the small cabin. "No need to apologize." Eliana was tucked against her lap, reaching fearlessly for the flame burning in her mother's palm. Rosa shifted on the cot and shot a small, controlled fireball at the hearth to reignite the coals. The crackle of the fire made Eliana squeal excitedly. Rosa held the baby back so she wouldn't spill off the cot trying to reach the coals. "Someday, _da'lan,_ you need to learn that most fire burns," she said, chuckling dryly.

Tal watched her redirect Eliana's attention away from the flames, tickling and nuzzling the tiny girl. His throat hurt, growing thick with a lump of emotion as he compared the sister of the dark future and the easygoing soft mother of his present. He shuddered, trying to dislodge that painful lump by swallowing it, to no avail. He wanted something to drink to push those memories away but he knew that wouldn't help in the long run.

Still, sleep was a long ways away. He wondered if Solas had spoken to Rosa about Eliana's murder in the dark future. Tal hadn't been able to bring himself to do it yet. He wasn't about to do it now.

Tossing his tangled covers onto his bed, Tal got to his feet and strode for the little foyer where his coat, boots, and shoes waited. He sensed Rosa's worried gaze following him. "Where are you going? Tal? Is everything all right?"

"It's fine," he lied, hurriedly pulling his coat on. He snatched his boots and hopped on one leg, trying to pull the first on. It was cold out there. He didn't know how Revas— _Solas_ could stand it. Unless he was burning off little bits of mana to warm himself, but doing that in an Andrastian community that so feared magic was unwise in Tal's opinion.

"Where are you going?" Rosa asked and he heard her shifting on the cot, preparing to rise.

"Just to the tavern for some milk and a snack," he said and wasn't sure if that was truth or lie. "No need for you to get up. Go back to sleep."

But he could already hear her feet padding over the floor. A moment later she was in the foyer with him—just in time, too, as her free arm shot out and steadied him as he hopped clumsily pulling on his second boot. Her eyes were dark in the gloom away from the hearth. She had Eliana balanced on one cocked hip. "Tal…" she said, her tone one of warning.

"I'm not going to drink," he said and still wasn't sure if that was a lie or the truth. "I swear on _babae's_ memory…" He stopped, scowling with déjà vu. When had he said that? It felt like he'd made this same oath to her recently. But he couldn't remember it.

Rosa's shoulders slouched a little. They both knew Tal's sobriety had come easier since his return from Redcliffe. Cassandra and Leliana and Solas had probably all reassured Rosa that Tal hardly had a drop of alcohol on the way out to Redcliffe and on the way back. That feedback must put her at ease now.

It was ironic, actually, considering his frequent nightmares. Yet, strangely, the constant drive to drink himself into a stupor had dulled into merely a mild suggestion in the back of his head. And this was even without Solas' magic. He still had headaches and shakiness sometimes, and sudden cravings, but for some reason it was _so_ much easier to resist the desire to drink.

Well, he suspected he knew why. Rogathe was gone. He and Solas discovered that the first night after Redcliffe. Tal had traveled into the future wearing the little idol with the blood magic binding spell on it, but he returned with Solas' lacquered wolf jawbone. Somewhere along the way he exchanged one for the other. That observation made Tal realize the spirit was gone. He was no longer possessed.

What a relief!

Yet, oddly, Solas and later Rosa as well, found no trace at all of Rogathe. It was as if the spirit of bravery never existed. Rosa wondered if it had died somehow in the future or during the time travel. She seemed torn between accepting Rogathe's death and mourning him, or obsessing over what had happened to him and wondering if he needed her help.

Tal wished he could tell her one way or another, but mostly his reaction was entirely selfish. Rogathe was _gone._ He was himself again, alone inside his head. And that, somehow, made not drinking a thousand times easier. While Rogathe rode inside him, an unwelcome visitor, Tal constantly felt the spirit's disappointment and judgment of him. The only time he didn't feel it was when he was drunk. So he drank and wanted to drink. Constantly.

"All right," Rosa said, nodding to him. "I trust you, _da'isamalin."_

Eliana cooed and reached for him. "Babababababah!"

Tal winked at her and ducked close to give her a sloppy kiss on the cheek. Eliana giggled as he withdrew, clapping. The purple sparks of lightning came again as her palms met. Rosa grimaced and used her other hand to stop Eliana's clapping. "No, no, no, Elia."

"She does that a lot," Tal observed, smiling lopsidedly.

"Just with everyone she likes," Rosa said and sighed tiredly. "Which is everyone right now—but especially you and…Solas." She still seemed hesitant to use the Elvhen man's real name for some reason. "I don't know how to get her to stop. While you were gone she startled Josephine with it. Then your ambassador offered to ask _Madame Vivienne_ to recommend a tutor for _my_ baby." Rosa scoffed angrily. "As if I don't know how to teach my own child magic!"

Seeing her get indignant about this sort of thing always made Tal smirk and find ways to mouth off like a smartass, further working her up. "I don't know; Josie might have a point. I mean, clearly the Iron Lady knows _way_ more than any of us lowly peasants. She's from a _Circle._ And not just any old Circle, but the hoity-toity one in Val Royeaux where they think their farts smell like fancy cheese and perfume."

Rosa laughed, full-throated, but then cut it off when Eliana started pawing at her loose nightshirt. They both knew what that meant. Rosa repositioned Eliana on her hip and jerked her chin toward Tal. "Go on then, just keep your promise and don't stay out all night. When those mages arrive your advisors will expect you to hotfoot it up to the breach to close it."

Tal sighed. "Yeah," he grumbled. He gave Rosa a quick one-armed hug and left the cabin. The night was dark and chilly, despite the fact spring had come out in full force down in the lower elevations. It might never reach Haven for all Tal knew.

He made his way to the tavern, which was always lit up with a few patrons despite the late—or was it earlier?—hour. Inside he saw a man tending the bar in Flissa's place, methodically cleaning glasses with a bored expression. A faint smell of roast meat filled the air, as did the sharp scent of alcohol. It tickled Tal's brain, tempting him. He pushed at thought aside and moved to the table near where Sera usually hung out. She wasn't here at present—but Dorian was, nursing a wine bottle.

"Hi," Tal greeted him, trying not to fidget with sudden anxiousness. "Mind if I sit?"

Dorian sat back in his seat, smiling. He motioned with the wine, making it tinkle as it sloshed against the glass. "Be my guest, Herald." As Tal pulled the chair out and sat, Dorian returned the wine bottle back to the table and asked, "So, what brings our esteemed young Herald out to drink at this time of night? Isn't your nanny going to be worried?"

Tal smirked. "She gave me permission, actually."

"Oh?" Dorian teased, smoothing one end of his mustache. "So you have mother's clearance to be naughty, I see." He clicked his tongue. "I might have to find that dwarf fellow and borrow a little of his whiskey in celebration for this occasion—seeing as their isn't a drop of decent brandy in the whole of the south."

Tal chuckled, blushing even as his mind rushed, searching for a clever way to turn Dorian away from tempting him to drink alcohol. Maybe they could drink…something else.

 _Fenedhis,_ he cursed himself. Now he'd gone and popped a boner with just one playful thought. He couldn't stand up to leave without giving it away, either. These breeches were entirely too tight to hide that sort of thing.

This was all the more evidence that it'd been _way_ too long since his last tumble.

…annnnnd there was the crushing guilt again, pressing on his lungs from within. _Fuck._ He'd wanted that to be all Rogathe. It wasn't. Turned out he had a conscience of his own and it was a huge cockblock. He'd tried to get amorous with Herah in the Tal-Vashoth mercenaries only to chicken out at the last moment when it was clear she was actually interested enough in him to have sex. Now she was dead in the Conclave explosion. And since then his life was all about struggling not to drink and trying to learn how to be a leader when all he wanted to do was run and hide.

He averted his eyes from Dorian, feigning more shyness than he actually felt and coughed into the crook of his elbow. "Uh, well, the traditional way Dalish celebrate something as momentous as this is by planting a little sapling."

Yes, that was a good not-sexy thing to think about to deflate his boner. He recalled the sad little mounds on the path leading to the ruins of the temple of Sacred Ashes where Rosa led her clan in a short funerary service. Yes, that was nice and miserable. Sad. Total boner-killer.

Dorian sipped on his wine, draining his current glass. He chuckled as he set it down. "That sounds like too much work to me." He hummed, running a finger over the other side of his mustache now. Tal watched the motion a little too avidly. Human facial hair had always fascinated him. He also knew from experience that it felt _delicious_ on the bare skin. He wanted to touch it, feel it for himself.

 _Fenedhis, abort that thought!_

He latched onto the first unsexy thought he could and blurted, "Have you been having nightmares? About the dark future, I mean."

Now Dorian's features soured and Tal realized he struck a nerve. Dorian was always glib about the time travel experience in front of the others, but here, late at night and one on one, a different emotion played over his face. His graceful hand and well-manicured fingers moved to grasp the wine bottle. "Honestly," he said in a dark tone, "I'm constantly thinking about it. I'm really rather tired of closing my eyes and reliving it. I take it you're feeling the same? Have you remembered something more?"

"Only weird fragments," Tal admitted, leaning closer to the table and lowering his voice. "I just had a really strange nightmare where I saw Cassandra, Sera, Varric, and Leliana together with…" He wrinkled his nose, blushing as he debated whether he should explain it. But honestly, he was enjoying the chance at an honest exchange with the only other person who'd lived through it, so he decided he would. "…with one of the elven gods standing off to the side, like he was overseeing it all."

He'd expected Dorian to smirk or chuckle at this strangeness, but instead the Tevinter mage frowned. His handsome brown eyes narrowed with concentration, despite the too-wet buzzed look of them. "Was this particular deity of yours the one associated with wolves by any chance?"

Now Tal froze, staring. "Yeah. Fen'Harel, the trickster. Fen'Harel means Dread Wolf." He searched over Dorian just as the Tevinter mage was doing the same with him. "How'd you know?" He doubted Dorian knew much about the elven pantheon, just as Tal knew next to nothing about the Imperium's Old Gods.

Dorian's frown deepened and his eyes crinkled almost with something akin to fear. "Tell me," he said, not answering Tal's question. "Was your nightmare trickster wearing a crude wolf pelt headpiece? With some garish shiny plate armor in a silver color? And a black—"

"A black pelt over his shoulder," Tal finished for him. They stared at each other, stony in shock.

Finally Dorian's lips twisted with displeasure and his thumb tapped on the wine bottle. "That, my dear Herald, is how we know this mutual nightmare of ours isn't a weird manifestation of the Fade at all."

Tal nodded, somber and stunned. "It's a memory," he agreed.

Dorian sat back in his chair, making the old wood creak. The fire in the hearth crackled. The tavern was fairly quiet but Dorian still seemed oddly anxious as he cast a glance around before he said, "The question I have is _why_ are we both remembering some elvish trickster? Who was he? Why was he there? _Was_ he even there?" He scoffed. "I rather hate this sort of open-ended rubbish—but at least there's some comfort now in knowing we _both_ remember it."

"We can try to figure it out together," Tal suggested, brightening. "We can compare memories."

Now Dorian smiled. He grabbed his wine and began to pour himself another glass. "I think that's a marvelous idea." He swirled the wine in his glass and then took a quick gulp. "Since neither of us is likely to get any sleep tonight, what do you say we start on it right now, shall we?"

The small glint in the other mage's brown eyes pushed the nightmare right out of Tal's mind. He would have agreed to virtually anything Dorian suggested just to watch his supple lips move and admire the perfect curl of his mustache. But this actually sounded helpful, too.

He grinned. "Absolutely. Count me in—on one condition, though."

Dorian arched a brow. "Yes, Herald?"

Tal smirked then. "Actually, two conditions."

Dorian said nothing, merely waited for the aforementioned terms.

He held up one finger. "Firstly, call me Tal. _Please._ " Tal held up his middle finger alongside the index. "Secondly, don't ask me to drink. In fact, if I start trying to drink you have to stop me. Don't encourage me."

Dorian let out a guffaw. "Are you serious? I thought you said your nanny gave you special dispensation to have a drink. It _is_ the best way to chase away nightmares in my extensive experience." As if to emphasize, Dorian lifted his wine glass to his lips and took a slow, deliberate sip.

Tal tried not to watch a little too obviously and intently as Dorian's lips closed over the edge of the glass and the bump in his throat bobbed. His cheeks were hot. He cleared his throat. "She gave me _permission_ to come to the tavern. Not to drink."

Dorian set the glass down and leaned forward, close enough Tal could smell the wine lingering on his breath. "Do you always do what your nanny tells you… _Tal?"_

The sound of Dorian trying out his name made Tal shiver, but he steeled his spine, sitting back and pointedly looking away. "I can't _lead_ anyone if I'm always drunk, Dorian. And once I start I can't stop. So it's not about _obeying my sister._ It's about knowing when she's right and that I'm weak." He sighed. "Are you going to stop tempting me with booze or not?"

Shifting on his chair, Dorian let out a small breath. Something like admiration flitted briefly across his features and Tal felt a small spurt of pride. "Sorry about that, Herald. Won't happen again." He paused a moment and then said, "May I perhaps tempt you with _other_ vices?" His lip curled, playful and sly.

Now Tal shot the other mage a sidelong look. If he'd had _any_ doubt about Dorian's interest in him before, it was entirely gone now. He hummed in his throat, as though he had to consider this question and then said, "I'll allow it. Just don't tell my nanny."

* * *

 **Next Chapter**

"Has Tal told you of his experience with time magic in Redcliffe? When he was sent forward in time?"

Rosa hugged herself now, uneasy. "He has nightmares every night, but no. He hasn't told me much. No one has. I just know it was…bad. The whole world was about to be swallowed by the breach."

"After a fashion," Solas told her, smiling grimly. "A more accurate description is that the Veil was shattered, on the verge of collapsing outright. Such an event would indeed herald great death and destruction."

"A bad place then," Rosa repeated, lips pinching together. She glanced down at Elia, checking the baby and finding her still feebly crawling, grunting as she pulled up the pelt with chubby fists. "But what does this have to do with Elia not being _a normal child?"_

* * *

I've promised a lot this story will be very different and I am hoping you can all see that by now! The lost time travel memories will continue to motivate both Tal and Dorian...and Solas, who has the full truth from his other self.

Thank you, Cookie, for taking the time to review! It was very sad, yeah! I cried while writing it in parts.

Anyway...next chapter we're closing the breach!


	14. Puzzle Pieces

**Fourteen**

Puzzle Pieces

* * *

Solas held his lacquered wolf jawbone in one hand, staring at it unseeingly. This was the one he wore, not the one his future self gifted to Tal. For the last few days, since he arrived back in Haven with Tal, Solas had literally lost sleep struggling with what and _when_ to tell Rosa. The imperative of his future self's message was still strong within him, but he had to do this right.

The Rosa of this timeline wasn't constrained the way the Rosa of the dark future was. Without Tal and the Anchor, the breach was intractable. Dark future Rosa would have firsthand evidence that their world was ending regardless of what she did. It left her with only two choices—work with him despite his past to ensure the People had a future, or spurn him and face a terrifying future alone.

It was easy to see why that Rosa would forgive his many betrayals. The Rosa of this world, however, now slept comfortably with the knowledge that her brother and her daughter were safe. The breach would soon be closed. The advance rebel mages, enchanters and leaders of the fallen Circles, had already arrived the previous evening. This very morning Tal would walk with the lot of them up to the ruins of the temple of Sacred Ashes and Solas had little doubt the breach would seal this time.

If Solas told Rosa everything now…he was sure to lose her and Eliana, emotionally at least. How could Rosa do anything but hate him when she learned the full truth? Perhaps she might accept his identity and his past with relative ease, but when she learned he killed her father?

 _But it needed to be done._

And Rosa _needed_ to understand the danger Eliana was in if she or Tal turned on him. That was what the demons wanted.

The idea kept swimming in his mind that he might be able to alter his other self's message so that Rosa could access it. If she could see and feel his loss and his other self's emotion, she would know the danger was real and constant. They _had_ to stay together, working as a team for Elia's sake. Even if she despised him, it mattered little. As long as they were close so he could protect them…that would be enough.

A knock sounded on his cabin door. Solas quickly pulled the pendant back over his head, resting it reverently against his tunic. Then he rose from his chair and opened the door to see Cassandra waiting with Leliana. He stiffened, wondering for a moment if they'd come to interrogate him.

"Solas," Cassandra said, using his given name with only slight hesitation. "Are you ready? The Herald is about to join us for the march to the temple ruins."

He nodded to her. "Just a moment. I must fetch my things." He shut the door and turned, grabbing his vest from his bed and slinging his pack over his shoulders. He collected his staff from the corner and then joined the Seeker and the spymaster.

At Haven's gates he saw Rosa standing with Eliana in her sling. She wore a thick bear pelt, shielding her and the baby from the lingering chill. Eliana had freed her arms and swatted aggressively at passing snowflakes as they drifted by. The sight of his daughter flushed Solas warm even as his stomach tightened with anticipatory dread.

There was so much to fear. So much to lose.

Seeing Rosa's bright smile and rosy cheeks only heightened his anxiety. He'd tried to avoid her somewhat since returning from Redcliffe. Rosa had probably noticed his behavior change, but Eliana was a thorough distraction. She hadn't brought it up with him yet. Maybe she would now.

"Rosa," he greeted her, smiling warmly despite the snakes coiling in his belly. When Eliana noticed him and squealed, kicking against Rosa as if she would launch herself at him, Solas couldn't help but laugh. "Bah!" she yelled, flapping her arms. "Bah! Bah! BahBaaaaay."

He halted just shy of mother and child, glancing curiously at Rosa, and then, seeing her answering smirk, he looked back to Eliana. "Do my ears deceive me, _da'lan?"_ he asked and stretched out a hand to let the baby slap her palms against.

"I don't think so," Rosa said, nuzzling Eliana's ear. "She's been working on that for weeks."

Eliana cooed and twisted round to nuzzle Rosa in return. "Mahmah," she said, leaving an imprint of spitty lips on Rosa's cheek.

"She is beginning to speak," Solas said, warm all over now, despite not burning any mana to ward off the chill. "And she has grown."

Then Eliana patted at Rosa's cheeks and, along with the slapping sound of flesh on flesh, Solas heard the crackle of storm school magic. Rosa gave a little startled cry of pain and quickly grabbed at her daughter's hands. "No, no, no, Elia," she said in a deeper voice, scolding. The baby whimpered.

Solas watched the exchange with a mixture of pride, amusement—and dread. The tiny crackle of lightning Eliana cast into her mother had set Rosa's hair on end. "Rosa," he said, struggling with whether he should smile or frown. When she looked at him Solas reached out and tried to smooth her hair down.

She blushed red as she realized what had happened. "Oh no." She tried to pat her hair down and then cursed. Stooping, she grabbed snow from in the shadow of Haven's gate to wet her hands and then used it to flatten her hair. "Better?" she asked him.

He nodded, smiling now even as the anxiety snakes twisted inside again. Eliana's magic was coming more and more often, drawing his mind to his future self's thoughts that the baby was very powerful. He didn't want to think of his daughter as a tool in his plans to restore the People but…the selfish thought came anyway. And his enemies would certainly think of Eliana as a tool or weapon in his arsenal—one they'd very much like to take away to level the playing field.

He had to prioritize hiding her power, from the humans and from his enemies. If they thought Eliana harmless and helpless they'd take less interest in her. She'd be safer.

Edging closer to Rosa, he spoke in elven. _"We must try to hide how strong she is. For her safety."_

Rosa's smile faltered and her violet eyes darkened with worry. She'd clearly been struggling with this issue. _"I'm trying,"_ she replied in hushed elven. _"She won't stop doing it. I tell her no every time. She won't listen."_ The fear in her voice made him feel cold. He had to clench his hands, pressing them to his sides to prevent himself from reaching out to touch her, to offer comfort in some way.

Rosa bounced and swayed in place as Eliana started fussing. She still held the baby's hands clasped in one of hers to keep her from using more magic. Rosa looked around them, clearly nervous. _"I think that Circle Enchanter, the one with the horns—"_ Vivienne, he realized. She must not want to say the other woman's name for fear of eavesdroppers. _"I think she's following me and Elia around. Elia cast in front of Josephine the other day and—"_

Giving into his desire, Solas reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder, hoping to reassure her. _"I will speak to Tal and arrange for a meeting between us and Lady Montiliyet. I'm sure she will understand our concerns. Eliana will not be taken away, I promise you."_

Rosa let out a long breath, tension leaving her shoulders under Solas' hand. "Thank you." She licked her lips. "I tried to mention this to Tal, but I did it wrong. I turned it into a joke. I don't think he sees the danger."

Solas smiled. "He did not find the Hasmal Circle particularly trying, if memory serves. The Dalish are renowned for being stubborn, but he is very adaptable. He reminds me of…" He broke off, frowning as he realized almost too late that he was about to mention Felassan. A sloppy mistake.

Rosa had noticed his slipup. "He reminds you of who?"

Solas shook his head, letting his hand fall to his side. "Forgive me. You would not know him."

Now Rosa flashed a humorless smile. "You're lying, _flat-ear."_

Eliana saved Solas from having to answer as she squealed, managing to free her hands from Rosa so she could flap them at Tal as he approached out of Haven. "Baaaaaaaaah!" She hopped as much as she could while in her sling. "Babababababababa!"

Rosa chuckled, shooting Solas an amused look. "She' still figuring out who _baba_ actually is." She nuzzled Eliana's ear again and said, "No, Elia, that's _ba'isamalin._ " She held Eliana's chubby forearm and made a waving motion in Tal's direction. _"Savhalla Ba'isamalin,"_ she said.

"Baaaaaaah," Eliana said, then switched sounds with a profuse amount of spitting. "Ssssssssssssa."

Tal stepped up next to them, bright and cheery. "Close enough, kiddo," he said and pressed close, blowing a raspberry on the baby's head. Eliana giggled and reached for him with greedy hands, but Tal evaded her grasp, pulling back to look at Solas. "You ready to close this breach, old man?"

Solas glowered at him, refusing to dignify that comment with a response. Tal had spent far too much time with Dorian lately and had picked up much of the Tevinter's wit. He'd been suspicious the two were drinking when they met in the tavern and strolled through repeatedly to babysit Tal…but their drunken Herald _wasn't_ drinking. If Solas had been one for faith he would have called it a miracle, but he suspected it had far more to do with the young elf's lack of possession. Rogathe truly had not agreed with his constitution.

"I think we're all ready," Rosa said, her breath puffing out in the cold air. Eliana watched it, intrigued. "I just don't know what happens afterward."

"Everyone parties," Tal said, snorting. "Everyone except me. I will just drink tea."

"You won't return to your clan?" Rosa asked him.

Tal shot her an annoyed look. "Why would I do that?" He lifted his left hand, staring down into the palm. "It's not like I could even if they'd take me back. The rifts across Thedas aren't going to seal themselves." He sniffed, letting his hand fall back to his side and twisted to look up toward the path to that led to the temple ruins. "Speaking of which…let's get this shit show moving." He clapped Solas on the shoulder. "Come on, old timer."

Now Solas let out a longsuffering sigh. He _was_ old, he supposed, and they both knew it now. That meant he couldn't really protest. He started to move after Tal but Rosa reached out and caught his arm. He halted, looking to her and, seeing her tense expression, his stomach dropped.

"If he closes the breach," she started, "I was planning on returning to my clan soon. I wondered if you would join me this time." She smiled uncertainly, swaying in place and patting Eliana's sling, as if Solas really needed the wordless reminder of the baby.

The idea of living with the Dalish made him involuntarily scowl with bitterness before he could stop it. At once he knew it was a mistake as she released his hand, recoiling from him and drawing back a few steps. "I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I have no interest in living with the Dalish."

Rosa's look was pained and it stabbed at him. "This place isn't a good spot for raising a child," she told him somberly. "And the mage-templar conflict puts all of us at risk. I don't trust the peace Tal has theoretically brokered. It won't last." Her jaw clenched. "I won't be taken to a Circle again and I won't let Elia wind up there, either. The clan is the best place for her to grow up protected from that."

The clan would be the _worst_ place for his daughter to grow up. Solas rejected the idea on so many levels. The Dalish would teach her to think of herself as superior to other elves. They would tell her their _ridiculous_ legends, which were more properly termed _lies_ about the false-gods. But more importantly the clan was small. Bandits and slavers or even just wild animals or bad luck could slaughter the entire group. Eliana would be completely vulnerable there to Solas' enemies, like the Forbidden Ones. The only benefit was that Rosa was right; Eliana's magic would not be as great a risk there.

Knowing a gruff dismissal would hurt Rosa—and she wouldn't understand his reasons—Solas moved close to her to speak intimately. "I'm sorry, but she would not be safe with your clan, or any clan. I will explain why tonight, after the Herald has sealed the breach."

Rosa stared at him, considering. He could see the doubt and lingering hurt in her eyes. To Rosa this exchange was probably as much about Eliana's future and safety as it was a covert attempt to ask him to live with her and her clan. Yet she seemed to push whatever she felt internally aside. She nodded at him and smiled—it even appeared genuine. "I'll see you tonight then?"

His stomach lurched with dread, knowing he'd have to tell her _something_ tonight now. He nodded. "Yes."

* * *

Tal slurped on his tea, trying not to be too noisy so he could emulate Dorian, who was far more elegant when he drank. Flissa brought Tal a teacup and saucer earlier but Tal used a wineglass instead so he could consume more at a time. He was a touch jittery now after…five cups? He'd lost count. No matter. He didn't care if he slept tonight.

Across the table from him Dorian nursed his second wine bottle. As always he poured it into a glass rather than drink from the bottle. He was far too classy to do otherwise until he was significantly drunker than this. The tavern around them was loud and boisterous. A singer strummed on a lute, belting out a song about Sera that creeped Tal out more than anything else. He knew from talking with Sera that she felt the same way and liked to cut the strings on the bard's lute whenever she got the chance.

They'd closed the breach with relative ease that afternoon. Tal hadn't expected it to be so…uncomplicated. It was a relief to have it over with at last, even though Tal knew his task was far from over. The mark on his hand was still here and they had yet to find answers to many questions surrounding the Conclave explosion.

The only mystery Tal wanted to solve, however, was the one centered on his missing time travel memories. Over the past few days, with Dorian's help, they'd made significant progress—despite frequent interruptions from Sera, Varric, a weird Qunari recruit who was openly spying on them, and Blackwall the Warden. He and Dorian had become quite good at succinctly dismissing all those various interruptions.

Tal also hadn't missed the _countless_ times Solas and Rosa toured through the tavern over the past few days, trying to look nonchalant. Yet it was obvious they were trying to make sure he wasn't drinking himself into a stupor. Embarrassingly, Rosa and Solas weren't the only ones to do it, either. Cassandra, Leliana, Cullen, and Josephine all walked through every so often, pretending to be surprised when they found him and Dorian together. They all seemed giddily happy too when they noticed his tea.

Ugh. Fortunately they'd not been by tonight. Everyone was too busy celebrating that the world wasn't going to be swallowed up by the breach.

All except he and Dorian as they continued beating their heads figuratively and literally against the wooden table, trying to puzzle out the truth of what happened to them when they time-traveled.

"All right," he said when he set his tea, sloshing in the wine glass, back to the table. "So we landed in the deep dungeons. It was flooded. There was red lyrium growing on the walls."

"Yes," Dorian agreed, patient but bored. They tended to repeat themselves a lot to ensure they covered as many details as possible, checking to see what they both recalled and taking note of differences, gaps of time, leaps of logic, and incongruous images that didn't seem to fit into their narrative but kept emerging in their dreams or jolting them with déjà vu.

"The castle trembled. I puked my guts out." Dorian nodded at this. "We passed some corpses. I lost my shit. You kept me going. Thanks, by the way."

"Don't mention it," Dorian said, smiling.

"We found Cassandra, then Varric, and Sera," Tal said next.

"We found the Grand Enchanter first," Dorian interjected, stopping mid-sip on his wine. "You were feeling pretty wretched then. I'm not surprised you don't remember."

Tal nodded, scratching a note on his parchment. "Okay. Then we got out of the dungeon. There was a gangway…" This part was hazy for him but clear for Dorian. Because Dorian had no memory of a strange blond man with a big brimmed hat and patchwork leather clothes at all, Tal scratched it out. He likely dreamed it or was just confused. "Then we found Leliana. And we got into the courtyard. I closed some rifts…"

All of this was missing for Tal. Dorian's memory was hazy on it, too. They'd had to talk, struggling to jog each other's memories for hours to dredge up as many details as they could. In fact, the narrative fell apart here entirely. They had to both _infer_ what happened from tiny details. Tal remembered the mark coming alive and hurting, which meant rifts. He remembered the sky and the castle walls, as did Dorian. But the Tevinter remembered _sort of_ fighting Venatori while Tal didn't. That was a strange problem with their tale. Where were the guards? Why was the castle shaking? Why didn't the Venatori fight back or try to stop their escaping prisoners?

"And you saw your nanny—"

"Keeper," Tal corrected dryly.

"Yes, whatever. You saw that elven woman on the crumbled castle wall," Dorian reminded him. This was one of those incongruous, weird images they'd confirmed was actually a memory. Tal had thought it more a dream at first but after chatting with Dorian for a while the other mage admitted he remembered something…odd. He'd seen elves. A lot of them. That backed up Tal's pseudo-memory so they included it as being real, somewhere and somehow.

"Then we made it to the great hall. You fought some baddies, I didn't. I was probably vomiting in a corner." Tal had no memory of fighting there while Dorian definitely did. "And we got to the door of the throne room. And it was an archway…or maybe it was a weird door that was locked. Or maybe it was both."

Dorian snorted. "How could it be both? One of us must be mistaken." The way he gazed at Tal suggested he was certain it was him, but it was a good-natured sort of ribbing so Tal didn't mind.

They couldn't puzzle this dual reality door out. Tal remembered an arch. Dorian remembered a strange locked door. Neither of their memories matched the actual throne room door of Redcliffe castle that existed in their current present.

Then suddenly Rosa was standing at the edge of their table, her expression frazzled. "Have either of you seen…Solas?" There was that hesitation she still had with using his true name. Holding his secrets was apparently very important to her. Tal didn't hurry to answer her, instead reading again over their timeline for what he would say next to Dorian when his sister had gone.

Dorian uncorked and poured more wine for himself. "Sorry," he said. "I'm afraid I've been with the Herald since we marched back from the temple ruins." He smirked at Tal. "It's really very nippy out there, wouldn't you agree? You'd never know it's spring everywhere else in the world." He gave a little shudder and then asked, "Have you tried his cabin, perchance? He does seem to like standing out in the cold, so that'd be where I'd guess he is."

"Yes," she said tersely. "That was the first place I tried." She rocked in place, patting the large lump of her sling where Eliana was either nursing or sleeping because her head wasn't visible except for the smallest wisp of red-brown hair.

Tal shrugged at her now. "Sorry, _asamalin._ It's like Dorian said. I've been with him all evening." As he saw her face fall he felt a stab of regret that he didn't have better news for her, so he motioned quickly to his wine glass and the teapot. "But see! Not a drop of booze, I swear."

Her melancholy lifted with genuine joy—the same sort of motherly pride he frequently saw her light up with when Eliana did something she liked. "Wonderful," she gushed, almost slipping into a baby voice before she appeared to catch herself, flushing red. "Well, if you see Solas tell him I'm waiting for him."

"Yes, yes," Dorian said, waving her away. Thankfully Rosa didn't seem to notice as she was already hurrying out of the tavern. Now the other mage hummed in his throat. "Where were we?"

* * *

Solas delayed returning to Haven village after the close of the breach. First he haggled with the woodcutter outside of the village for kindling. Then he marched about the small lake outside the village, searching for elfroot and other edibles and herbs. The sun was very low in the sky. He let the sight of ice clouds colored pink and violet around the mountains distract him for a time as he exhaled, watching his breath fog.

He wanted to be at peace, as serene internally as this mountain wilderness was right now. He wanted to be confident that he wasn't about to lose _everything._

But he wasn't.

Every time he shut his eyes he heard his future self's warnings, felt his conviction and urgency that only the full truth could protect Rosa and Eliana from his enemies. He saw the nightmare image of Eliana's body, burnt and torn beyond recognition. In his long life he had known war many times. He had seen awful torture, abuse of power, brutality, and cruelty. Yet none of it compared to the image of his own child, dead.

For all his other self's certainty that the truth would save Elia…Solas wondered if in this world it would doom mother and daughter—and him, in turn.

When he heard a rustle in the undergrowth of a pine tree a short distance away, Solas blinked and returned to reality. About twenty meters away he saw a rabbit, brown fir sticking out sharply against the snow. It must have shed its winter pelt a little early, making it easier for him to see, though the hare still blended in very well with dead foliage and brown earth wherever it was exposed.

His stomach twisted, a reminder he had not eaten since the early morning. He could take this hare and return to Haven to present it to Rosa as a good excuse for his absence. It would make a fine meal, better than the tasteless Chantry stew the Inquisition provided its troops and tenderer than the gamey mutton Flissa served.

 _Sorry, my friend,_ he thought as he summoned mana, shaping it into fire so hot that the hare would die almost instantly—as painlessly as possible. The rabbit shrieked once, short and shrill with surprise, and then the fireball killed it. As he walked to retrieve it he realized too late that he _should_ have preserved the pelt, rather than burning it away. Rosa was always looking for blankets and pelts for Eliana.

He returned to Haven and found it full of celebration, cheers, and drinking. He had little doubt Tal was in the tavern with Dorian. That was where he'd been on a near-constant basis for the better part of a week. Yet, somehow, their Herald had managed to not drink himself into a stupor even once.

With that in mind, Solas felt confident bypassing the tavern to head straight for his cabin. He worked on digging his fingers into the rabbit's charred skin as he ascended the stairs. He paid little mind to his door as he pushed it open, only to hear a feminine gasp.

He lifted his head and saw Rosa sitting on a bear pelt with Eliana, halfway through changing her nappy. The baby rolled her head to one side and clapped her hands when she saw him. Lightning sparked as she squealed, clearly excited to see him. With how often Elia used magic it was obvious why Rosa must worry the humans would try to take her away.

Solas stepped inside and quickly shut the door. He lifted the halfway skinned rabbit. "I've brought dinner," he announced, smiling and hoping it looked genuine rather than like an anxious grimace. His appetite had disappeared now that he was here. He went over to the hearth anyway and continued hurriedly preparing the meal.

"Wonderful," Rosa said, grinning. She had half spoken in a baby-voice, still putting on Eliana's clean diaper. "I was starting to worry you'd skipped out on me."

She said it playfully, but Solas knew her fear must have been real. He had his back to her so he winced, shamed. He took a pinch of herbs from a pouch on a shelf and quickly seasoned the rabbit, letting the meal prep occupy him so he wouldn't have to answer her.

"It still surprises me," Rosa said behind him, chuckling. The fear was gone, replaced with something light and teasing…flirtatious.

He couldn't help himself now. He turned to glance over his shoulder and saw her reclining on the fur with Eliana sitting next to her, crawling toward the edge of the pelt. "What, may I ask, surprises you?"

Rosa chuckled again. "That you can cook. And hunt."

Her humor should have made him laugh with her, enjoying that he could please and surprise her this way—but he knew why she was amused. She must be comparing him to Felassan, who never completely overcame his pampered early life in Arlathan's court. Solas, meanwhile, began his life in a small village in Arlathan's middle class. And, as an adolescent and in young adulthood, he roamed the wilds. Courtly life was something he'd had to learn and master later in life.

Despite the reminder of Felassan—and the horrible truth he must tell her—Solas did manage to smile. "You said this to me before," he reminded her, warm with the memory of _when_ she'd said it. "As we traveled across the Free Marches."

"Yep," she agreed cheerily behind him. He heard her clothing rustle as she sat up and a moment later Eliana giggled. Wet kissing noises cut through the air and the baby's laughter intensified. When the baby quieted again Rosa said in baby-talk, "That was probably when we made you, _da'lan_."

Solas flushed hot, embarrassed at her comment even though their infant daughter wouldn't understand the meaning. His ears were burning as he made a makeshift spit for the hearth and walked the skewered rabbit to the fire. He took his time positioning the hare over the fire, stalling for time as he felt his neck burning too, sensing Rosa's eyes on him.

She shifted on the pelt once again, scooping up Eliana as the baby reached the end of the bear fur. "You don't get to escape me that easily, _da'lan,"_ she said playfully, lavishing Eliana with noisy wet kisses.

With her occupied with the baby, Solas finally finished with the spit and moved to the washbasin to clean his hands. Then he turned and watched Rosa continue playing for a few minutes until finally she caught him staring and grinned. "Come over here, _babae,_ she's making a break for it!"

And, sure enough, Eliana was trying to crawl off the bear pelt. So, smiling, Solas moved forward and stooped to pick her up. "And just where do you think you're going?" he asked her, lifting her high to be on his level. He drew a little mana, channeling it into her to tickle her, making the baby squeal and giggle with delight.

Lightning crackled, sizzling as it hit the nearest wooden roof beam of his cabin. Rosa's mouth fell open with alarm and she pressed forward, reaching to try and grab Eliana's hands. "No, no, no, _da'lan!"_

But Solas turned, blocking Rosa's grasp with his shoulders as he tucked Eliana close to himself. He nuzzled her and gripped one of her hands between his thumb and forefinger. _"Venavis,"_ he said to her softly and cast a little dispel.

Eliana blinked at him, her blue eyes wide. She gave a little shiver and then grinned, pressing close to slobber on his cheek and then his chin. "Baba, babababa baaaa…."

Rosa moved close, anxious and fluttering like a nervous hen. "What did you do?"

He shot her a smile he hoped would reassure her. "I consulted with an old friend of mine in the Fade."

Rosa raised her brows, surprised. "About Elia?"

He nodded. "I asked my friend, a spirit of wisdom, what knowledge it had regarding controlling a very young child's magical expression." He made sure to refer to Wisdom as _it_ rather than _she_ in Rosa's company, to make it clear he sought out a spirit rather than a physical being. He doubted Rosa would care about the distinction, but he did. A physical being was far more likely to betray another's trust while a spirit would not. Wisdom was a safe reference for him to query.

"What did it say?" Rosa asked. "My mother didn't know anything to help. I've been at my wit's end for _weeks_ while you and Tal were away…"

Smiling with amusement, Solas reached out with his free hand to her, ignoring Eliana as she continued sucking on his cheek. "Here. Let me show you."

He took Rosa's hand in his own and shaped the small dispel once more. Just like Eliana, Rosa froze for a moment and then shivered. An instant later she pulled her hand from his and stared at her fingers, brow furrowed with concentration. "I can't..." She grunted then, flexing her hand, and fire appeared in her palm. "There—but that was hard." She doused the flame, clenching her hand as she lifted her violet eyes to his, curious. "That's some kind of mana redirection?" she guessed.

"A very gentle dispelling," Solas told her, adjusting Eliana with a frown. _"Da'lan,"_ he said, sighing. "My chin is not food." He knelt and returned Eliana to the bear pelt so she could crawl. "My friend is old enough it can recall Arlathan, when mages were much stronger and children such as Eliana were common. The dispel redirects her mana for a time, making it harder to cast idly." He smiled at the relief lighting up Rosa's face. "She should not shock you for at least a few minutes, now."

Rosa laughed breathily and her eyes looked at him with such adoration it twisted his heart to think he might soon never see such affection from her again.

"Thank you," she said, still laughing. "Thank you so much. _Ma serannas."_

"There is no need to thank me," Solas told her softly. "I could see how greatly this worried you. It was the least I could do." He swayed from one foot to the other, anxiety twisting inside him again. This was a good point to change topics to the one he dreaded, but here he was, almost literally dragging his feet. Eliana's magic was _his_ fault, a consequence of _his_ heritage. Rosa's heritage certainly played a role, but _he_ was the Evanuris. _He_ was the one with powers and mana reserves so great he could be mistaken for a god.

"I'm still going to thank you for it," Rosa said, her smile dazzling, until she finally registered his posture and realized he was troubled. "What's wrong?" She gazed down quickly at Eliana, seeing the baby still safe on the bear pelt. "You needed to talk with me…"

"I did, yes," he agreed and then frowned at the past tense, but thought better of correcting himself. It would look foolish. Best to just…

"You don't want to live with the Dalish," Rosa said blankly. "I understand that. But Elia would be safer with—"

"She would not be safer with your people," Solas said quickly cutting her off. He grimaced at his own rudeness, hurriedly pressing on. "The Dalish would be more accepting of her magic, that is true. But a small Dalish clan would not be sufficient to protect her from enemies."

Rosa shook her head. "Clans are always at risk of attack, yes. But clan Lavellan is larger than most. Nowhere is going to be completely safe, but—"

"Apologies," Solas said, interrupting her again. "You are correct, but Elia is…not an ordinary child." He steeled his spine, preparing for the worst as confusion and wariness darkened Rosa's features. "Has the Herald—"

"Tal," Rosa corrected him.

Solas nodded, accepting the revision. "Has Tal told you of his experience with time magic in Redcliffe? When he was sent forward in time?"

Rosa hugged herself now, uneasy. "He has nightmares every night, but no. He hasn't told me much. No one has. I just know it was…bad. The whole world was about to be swallowed by the breach."

"After a fashion," Solas told her, smiling grimly. "A more accurate description is that the Veil was shattered, on the verge of collapsing outright. Such an event would indeed herald great death and destruction."

"A bad place then," Rosa repeated, lips pinching together. She glanced down at Elia, checking the baby and finding her still feebly crawling, grunting as she pulled up the pelt with chubby fists. "But what does this have to do with Elia not being _a normal child?"_

Like any mother she had naturally zeroed in on the most pressing and important thing to her—their daughter. The dark future was little more than a distraction to her. While they were in Redcliffe, recruiting the mages and sending Tal and Dorian spinning through time, Rosa was in Haven struggling to control Elia's increasingly common displays of magic around paranoid _shemlen_. Solas would have found that a noteworthy threat before Redcliffe and his future self's dire warning. Now the idea that the humans might take her away to a Circle seemed like a minor concern to him. At least in a Circle she would be _alive_.

He swallowed, struggling with the memory of the loss from the message in his future self's jawbone. "Tal may have since forgotten it, but when he first woke after his passage through time he had a message from you in the future." He saw her blanch and knew now that she'd guessed what the message was. "In that timeline, Eliana was killed. She hoped to protect her here, in the past."

"What was the message?" Rosa asked, her voice strangled.

Solas dropped his gaze to the floor, watching Eliana still struggling to get a handle on crawling. He fingered his lacquered jawbone. "We must be wary of the Knight-Captain from Hasmal Circle. Brycen."

"Brycen?" Rosa repeated and then cursed. "He was promoted to Knight-Commander, remember?"

He nodded somberly. "Additionally we must be particularly wary of a demon by the name of Imshael."

Rosa frowned, cocking her head. "Who?"

"You…would not know him," Solas admitted, still not meeting her eye. "He is…an acquaintance of mine. An enemy, actually. He is one of the Forbidden Ones, a powerful group of demons." He drew in a breath to steady himself. "As I understand it, in this dark future Imshael and his brethren took it upon themselves to eliminate you and Elia. They did not succeed in killing you, but Elia…" He shut his eyes, struggling with the terrible image of his dead daughter.

As if worried that Imshael or Brycen would appear suddenly out of thin air, Rosa pivoted on her heel and marched the step or so away to the opposite side of the bear pelt where Eliana was. She picked up the baby, holding protectively. Eliana whimpered sleepily. "Don't worry, sweetling," she cooed. _"Mamae's_ got you. And _babae's_ here to protect you."

She shot Solas a fearful look. "There's more, isn't there?"

He nodded, jaw clenched. "Yes, I'm afraid so."

"But this is why you think Elia isn't safe with my clan?" she asked and he nodded again. "You've not told me why you think she's not an _ordinary_ child. And why would these demons hunt her down? Just to get at you?" Her eyes searched over him, her mind obviously churning around the questions, coming to conclusions on her own. "It's something about Mythal, right? Or…are you _sure_ these demons were trying to hurt you? Are you sure they weren't _actually_ after me the whole time?"

"It was me they sought to weaken," Solas told her firmly and then, at her look of confusion, he blurted, "As to why they would go to such efforts against me…I was more than Mythal's general in Arlathan…much more."

Now she scowled. "You were lovers?" she guessed.

At once Solas let out a short barking laugh and felt his cheeks burn. "No, absolutely not."

"Good, because she's a relative of yours, isn't she?" Rosa asked, appearing a little embarrassed at how wrong her guess apparently was. She swayed in place, holding Eliana as the baby nestled into the crook of her shoulder, looking increasingly tired.

"No," Solas said, somber again. "We were not related at all. And we were not lovers." He tucked his hands behind his back and thrust out his chin. "I was born to Elvhenan's middle class." He paused, unsure if Felassan had educated her fully on how their society's class system worked. He knew she knew the so-called "gods" were false, but she seemed hazy on details beyond that. "Elvhenan society was based on magic, including its class system," he explained. "Those in the upper classes were the most powerful mages. And at the very top were those mages who were so powerful they could call themselves gods and others would believe it. You and the Dalish incorrectly term them the Creators, but the proper term is Evanuris."

"I know," Rosa said, a little terse. That answered his question about whether Felassan educated her. She idly stroked Eliana's head. "My father Ivun was very high-ranking." Her eyes narrowed at him. He could almost see her suspicions growing, the wheels turning. Her hold on sleepy Eliana tightened.

Despite seeing the hint of fear from her, Solas stiffened his resolve and bolstered his courage. Rosa might only be fearful of losing Eliana and not considering _him_ a danger. Yet he must tread carefully. Better to reveal the truth in increments, giving her time to adjust to each. And he best remind her that danger stalked her and Eliana even now, which meant her safest path was always with him.

"You were a general to a mage who was mistaken for a god," she said, thinking aloud. "You're more powerful than my father and there are ancient demons hunting you." She frowned. "Or, rather, they won't go after you directly, but want to strike back at you through me and Elia for…something."

He dipped his chin to her, letting her know she was right. "In addition to the warning Tal received from you in the dark future, he also encountered me." He swallowed, trying to wet his parched throat. "I passed a more detailed warning to myself through a personal item I enchanted. It is because of that warning that I am telling you this. My future self believed it was the only way to protect you and Elia, but…"

He swallowed again, struggling to speak through the growing tension in his throat. "You will not like what I have to tell you, but please…try to understand and—"

"I won't take Eliana away from you," Rosa interrupted him solemnly, though there was no missing the fear in her eyes as her violet eyes surveyed him. "I promised you that and I'm not about to break it." Her gaze was stern and serious, though her lips twitched with a little show of humor. "You just proved a few minutes ago how much she needs you—and how much _I_ need your help raising her."

Solas admired her for anticipating his primary fear, making his task a smidgen easier, but he didn't know if he could trust her reassurance. How could she _not_ be overwhelmed by what he was about to reveal?

Recalling his other self's conviction again, Solas drew in a steadying breath and forced himself to meet Rosa's eye unflinchingly. "I was not merely Mythal's general. I was her equal. An Evanuris."

Her lips parted, but no sound emerged. The constant back and forth swaying she did with Eliana ceased abruptly as she simply stared at him. Silence stretched out, both elves tense as bowstrings. Finally she asked, "An Evanuris?"

Solas dipped his chin once in a subtle nod. "Yes."

"Powerful enough to be mistaken for a god," she murmured and, although she hadn't phrased it as a question Solas saw the look in her eyes asking him to answer.

"Yes," he said and then, smiling grimly, added, "But no longer."

And now she went white as alabaster. Her brow furrowed and eyes narrowed and tension switched to the rigidity of fear. "And…how many Evanuris were there? There were nine Creators, but…"

Solas' chest was so tight it was difficult to breathe. He kept maintaining eye contact. "There were only nine. The Dalish remember them all." He frowned, feeling sick to his stomach at the shock and fear he saw stripping Rosa of all color. "Even me."

She knew who he was. He could see the revelation and horror crawling over her, spreading like blood staining white sheets. But she said nothing and she did not flee or curse him as he'd feared. Instead she held Eliana tightly, just staring at him.

And then they both heard a trumpeting horn outside, sounding an alarm through Haven.

* * *

 **Next Chapter**

"I'm Cole," the young man said. "I came to warn you."

" _You!"_ Tal shouted, heart hammering hard in his chest. _Cole_ , _yes, that_ was _his name!_ It was as though the name had always been at the tip of his tongue and now hearing it again, brought it rushing back.

* * *

Oh snap! Bet none of you expected he'd actually drop that bombshell on her this early! But as I keep saying, throwing a baby into the equation changes things for our dear egghead.

Thank you Cookie for so faithfully reviewing!


	15. In Your Heart Part 1: Amatus

**Fifteen**

In Your Heart Part 1: Amatus

* * *

"All right," Tal went on, "so we got to the throne room. Convinced Alexius _somehow_ to switch sides. Then you opened the time portal and poof! We were back here where we belonged." They were still in the tavern together, after darkness had fallen on Haven, hashing out their missing memories of time traveling.

Dorian hummed, stroking his mustache. This part was hazy for them both. It was the part they returned to again and again because both had different memories from each other so they couldn't confirm anything or fill in gaps. "And you don't remember Felix being miraculously healed of Blight?"

Tal shook his head. This was something Dorian kept hoping they'd prove was real, not a fanciful dream of his. If they proved it _was_ real then it offered hope for Felix in their timeline.

"And you don't remember meeting my sister there in the dark future at all?" Tal asked for the thousandth time.

Dorian pinched his lips together. "I recall a voice that may have been hers." He cocked his head, brow furrowing. "I believe whoever it was shouted something along the lines of, ' _I'll be patient when I'm dead.'"_

Tal chuckled. "That could have been her. She doesn't much like you."

"Of course she doesn't," Dorian said with a short laugh. "None of the nanny types do. I'm a bad influence, you know." He winked at Tal.

Fighting off the blush stealing over his cheeks, Tal cleared his throat, refocusing. "So maybe Rosa is there shouting at you about patience or something." Tal tapped his fingers on the parchment, screwing up his face in deep thought. "Do you remember anything about Solas?"

Dorian shook his head. "Not at all." He sipped quickly on his wine. "I know you remember something about him standing in front of a Fade rift." He frowned. "I can't correlate that. Sorry." He tossed a question of his own now at Tal. "Any idea how we managed to charm Alexius into switching sides?"

Tal blew out a long breath in a raspberry. "Nope."

They were going round in circles again. Some of the most important things were just…gone. Felix possibly being healed of Blight. Rosa being there. Solas being there. What happened to the Venatori guards? Why was the castle shaking? Why was a wall crumbled? Why were there elves in the courtyard?

Some of the things Tal was _certain_ happened were cast as unlikely in the narrative he and Dorian could agree on. Rosa's warning about Eliana, for example, hadn't happened as far as Dorian was concerned. But some of that was because Dorian wasn't at her side and didn't speak elven. Rosa almost certainly kept the conversation between them by not using common. But by the rules he and Dorian established that just wasn't enough evidence to prove it actually happened.

What he _did_ have solid evidence for, however, was that Solas was there at some point. And this was a detail that fascinated them both. Dorian had asked Tal for the jawbone, but he'd long since given it over to Solas. When Dorian tried to take it from Solas the elf rebuffed his request…but he _didn't_ say he didn't have the jawbone. He just didn't want to give it back to Tal or Dorian.

That meant it was real.

And neither of them remembered it.

Which meant _everything_ that only one of them recalled could also be true, and all the missing parts and unexplained details would add up if they just recovered the lost memories.

And that threw the whole narrative into chaos, because they had no way to recover what was lost.

Tal took a bigger swallow of his tea as they reached the end of their circle of discussion again with the thing they always finished on. "All right," he said. "Any thoughts on the Dread Wolf?"

"Beyond that he was _definitely_ there?" Dorian shrugged and reached for his wine bottle to pour more. "Search me." He eyed Tal over his glass pensively, pausing before drinking. "Tell me again the name in elvish?"

"Fen'Harel," Tal supplied. "The Dread Wolf."

Dorian's eyes widened slightly and he quickly but carefully replaced the wine glass. "Oh, I've remembered something, but I don't recall _when_ it happened. There was shouting, and it used that name, or so I think."

Tal leaned forward, tense with fresh interest. "Was it something like _Fen'Harel vir'enasalin?"_

Dorian nodded enthusiastically. "Yes." He stabbed a finger at Tal in triumph. "Good man! That was it exactly!" His smile turned sly. "I take it that means you remember this as well?"

Now it was Tal's turn to wink as he quickly scribbled down this detail.

"What does it mean, by the way?" Dorian asked after drinking heartily from his wine glass, emptying it.

Tal set the quill down on the parchment and thought for a moment about the translation. Then he said, "It means the Dread Wolf's victorious path." As Dorian nodded, contemplating that, Tal grunted and said, "Or it might mean Fen'Harel's path to victory. Or victory through—"

"Is there really a difference?" Dorian asked, lips twitching in an amused smile.

Tal shrugged. "Maybe? Our language is kind of…hard to interpret. You need setting or inflection or magic to get an accurate understanding, let alone a translation."

Dorian leaned back in his chair, regarding Tal with amused curiosity. "I was always under the impression the elvish language was forgotten. Yet you and your nanny seem most proficient in it—despite the idiosyncrasies."

This slight switch of topic made Tal tense, realizing he might be showing off a little and in doing so revealing too much. But Dorian had become a close friend over the past week since they returned from Redcliffe, and particularly since they began compiling their memories of time travel. It was hard to see him as a Tevinter "slaver" the way Rosa sometimes still referred to him.

Tal was about to shrug and offer a bland lie about some clans having better records than others when a trumpeting alarm call sounded. Dorian grimaced, hissing through his teeth at the sound. "What _is_ that racket?"

Chantry bells began to ring and people shouted with fear. The merrymakers in the tavern jumped up from their mugs. Sera, drunk by the fire across the room, stumbled as she turned round. "…the fuck is that?"

Tal grabbed the last of his tea and downed it, grateful now that he had resisted drinking even on a celebratory night. He would be sober and levelheaded now, unlike many of his comrades. Dorian only confirmed that thought as the other man wobbled when he tried to rise from their table. Tal reached out and steadied him.

"Thank you," Dorian told him, shaking his head and blinking a few times, as if that would help him regain his footing. "I can manage from here."

Tal wasn't as confident of that, but Dorian managed not to stumble as they left the tavern. They spilled out into the clamor and panic of Haven. Snow drifted fitfully down from the heavens and Tal's breath fogged before his face as he saw human shapes scrambling everywhere.

When they reached Varric's little outside campsite, the hearth fire blazing merrily, they found Varric struggling to pull on his leather armor. It was clear by the way the dwarf couldn't manage to put the buttons together that he was either panicked or drunk…or both.

"Stoic," Varric called to him, gruffly cheerful despite the ongoing alarm bells from the Chantry. When Varric saw Dorian in Tal's wake he added his nickname for the other mage, too. "Sparkler!"

"What's going on?" Tal asked.

Varric snorted. "Damned if I know. I was going to ask _you_ that."

Glancing over his shoulder at Dorian, Tal made a quick decision. Unlike Varric, Dorian hadn't shed his own light armor because it wasn't much heavier than their casual clothes. That meant he was ready to fight, aside from his unsteadiness due to wine. Varric, however, had shed all his armor to relax and he clearly needed help to be battle ready. But Tal didn't want to waste time on that. He needed to find Cassandra and his other advisors to understand what was happening.

"Dorian," he said, "stay here and help Varric."

Dorian made a face, likely annoyed. For a moment it appeared as though he would argue, but then he nodded. "All right. Dwarf duty it is—but do tell me what's going on as soon as you know, yes?"

Tal smiled at him and nodded in agreement, then he spun on his heel and rushed to the main thoroughfare through Haven. He could see shadow forms in armor assembling and soon recognized Cassandra and Cullen among them. When they spotted him in turn they moved to bring him into their little fold of command.

"One watchtower reporting," Cullen said. "It's a massive force, the bulk of it over the mountain." He pointed one gloved hand out into the gloom of the night.

Josephine was there, missing her clipboard but otherwise she seemed sober and focused. "Under what banner?" she asked. Tal imagined what her mind must be like—a maze of interconnected names of enemies and allies alike who might have some reason to march on them. Tal hoped it wasn't a long list.

"None," Cullen answered.

"None?" the ambassador replied, sounding stunned.

And then, from the main gate—which someone had thoughtfully closed after the alarm—loud thumps and flashes of fiery light exploded. Tal flinched at the sound. Had the enemy Cullen spoken of already reached them? His mana churned with anxiety, ready to fight. The gates shifted, giving a wooden groan as they resisted _something_ or _someone_ behind them.

Then a surprisingly youthful voice shouted, "I cannot come in unless you open!"

A soldier standing nearby the gate glanced toward Tal, Cullen, Cassandra, and Josephine in question. Cullen answered. "Open it—this could be a messenger." But the sharp look he shot both Tal and Cassandra suggested he feared it might also be a guised attack. His hand fell over his sword, as did Cassandra's.

Tal realized with a jerk of alarm that he left his stave in his cabin. Biting back the curse, he called a bit of mana to his right hand, summoning fire so he wasn't entirely empty handed. With the other hand he prepared to cast barriers over everyone as their small party advanced on the gate.

The solider obediently opened the door and, beyond it, they saw a loose circle of bodies. Their armor was peculiar plate mail. It vaguely reminded Tal of Templars, but their helmets were wrong. But the bodies quickly became irrelevant as he took in the figure standing in the midst of them, clearly the victor. He was young, pale, and wore a strange leather armor made of patchwork bits. And he wore a huge, wide-brimmed hat.

Tal's mouth fell open, gawping.

"I'm Cole," the young man said. "I came to warn you."

" _You!"_ Tal shouted, heart hammering hard in his chest. _Cole_ , _yes, that_ was _his name!_ It was as though the name had always been at the tip of his tongue and now, hearing it again, brought it rushing back.

Cassandra and Cullen tensed, their weapons drawn and ready. They shot Tal curious stares. Cole, for his part, had frozen, staring at Tal from beneath his wide-brimmed hat. His expression was innocent, tight with fear considering their circumstances, but also open in an almost childlike way.

"I _know_ you," Tal said, still shouting. His hands were shaky, but he kept the fire burning hot in his right hand. "You were there in the dark future."

Now both Cullen and Cassandra advanced, violence written on their faces. "Herald," Cassandra called to him, lips curling. "Who is this man?"

Cole looked between the three people arrayed in front of him and withdrew a step, shaking his head. His expression had warped with desperation and confusion. "I came to help you. The Templars came to kill you."

"Templars?" Cullen exploded, spitting the name. "Is this the order's response to our talks with the mages? Attacking blindly?" Mage mottled his face.

"The Red Templars went to the Elder One," Cole said. He looked to Tal. "You know him, he knows you." He paused and then tilted his head to one side, quizzically like a puppy. "I don't know you. How do you know me?"

Whoever Cole was, Tal's hazy memories didn't suggest he was a threat. Tal recalled seeing him working the gangway controls in the bowels of the castle. He knew the young man's voice, soft and gentle. He didn't seem especially threatening…but there was _something_ that left Tal wary about him.

But not wary enough that he would have him killed.

"Never mind that now," he said and meaningfully closed his right hand into a fist to extinguish the flame there. "You're saying that's the Elder One out there?"

Cole nodded somberly. "He's very angry that you took his mages." He pointed up into the snowy hills. The moonlight was bright, but Tal couldn't see anything beyond the occasionally vague hint of movement.

"This man could be a spy," Cassandra said, still snarling with suspicion.

"Why would they send a spy?" Cullen shot back at her. "That army outnumbers us ten to one!"

"Forget who he is for now," Tal told them. "We need a plan. _Now."_

"Haven is not defensible," Cullen said, grave. "If we are to withstand this we must control the battle." He jerked his chin toward the trebuchets. "We must get out there and hit that force before they reach us with everything we have." He turned and began shouting orders to the soldiers, hoping to muster up their newly recruited rebel mages and anyone else who could fight.

Cassandra turned and yelled to Josephine, who stood back behind the gate. "Gather those who cannot fight into the Chantry!"

Immediately Tal's thoughts leapt to Rosa and Eliana. His stomach squeezed tight inside as he turned, forgetting about Cole, and tried to run back to the gate after Josephine. Cassandra's free arm reached out, stopping him short. "Herald," she said firmly. "You are needed here to inspire our men."

"My sister and Eliana," Tal protested, shaking his head and pushing against her grip. "I have to make sure they're safe first."

"None of us are safe," Cassandra snapped at him. "Josephine will find them and get them to the Chantry. _You_ must see to it that the Elder One's forces do not overwhelm us."

Tal gritted his teeth, swallowing the words he _wanted_ to scream at her. Haven was indefensible, like Cullen said. They were outnumbered. Fighting was suicide. A Dalish clan knew when they encountered this sort of situation that _flight_ was the solution, not _fight._ It was better to flee and survive than to make a stupid stand and lose everyone.

He never wanted to be their stupid Herald anyway.

But he wasn't about to break past Cassandra. Her grip was iron strong. Her eyes blazed with rage, ready for a fight. She wasn't about to let him past.

Once she was distracted with the fighting, perhaps Tal could break away…

He spun round, back toward the trebuchets, swallowing the bile rising in his throat. He found himself staring at Cole. The young man's eyes were deep blue and sad. "You give them strength," he said, quiet as a whisper. "It's okay to be scared, but Cassandra's right. You can help more people out here."

He hated hearing that, but Cole was right. It was true. He was being selfish and letting fear for himself, Rosa, and Eliana get the better of him. Not all clans fell apart and fled under attack. Rosa's birth clan in the Brecilian Forest hadn't. Rosa had faced bandits and slavers, nearly dying to save her people. Tal had always admired her for such bravery and wished he were more like her.

Now was his chance, apparently.

"I need my staff," he told Cassandra and Cole. "I left it—"

"I know where to go," Cole said, looking him in the eye. "I will come back." He vanished.

Tal recoiled at the young man's disappearance, cringing. Cassandra merely blinked, baffled. A second later she seemed to have forgotten what they were talking about and pointed to the nearest trebuchet, where scouts were loading a boulder and prepping to fire as Templars emerged from the darkness to fight them. "Herald, we must protect them." And then she frowned. "Where is your weapon?"

Tal stared at her, frowning. That was…weird.

"I can fight without it a bit," Tal said and summoned more fire to his palm. "Back me up?" he asked her.

"Of course," she said and grabbed her shield off her back.

Through the gate Tal saw more soldiers pouring through, along with a smattering of his inner circle. Vivienne was present, well-dressed in bright silks that seemed to glow in the silvery moonlight. Blackwall was behind her, fully armored and carrying both his sword and his shield, though his pace suggested he was a little drunk. Sera was with him, too, lacking armor but fully armed and dexterous enough she wasn't stumbling down the stairs despite being drunk.

Well, that evened out Tal's numbers. Three people sober, two drunk and with more in the wings.

Steeling himself, Tal turned and Fade-stepped into the fight.

* * *

People scurried by Rosa, rushing to cabins or toward the Chantry. Worried cries and frantic shouts echoed through the village. Eliana whimpered against her, sensing danger and not liking it one bit. Rosa held her tighter, heart fluttering on her breastbone.

Solas was behind her, a protective shadow armed with his staff and wearing his usual travel clothes and light armor. She didn't know whether she should feel relieved he was there or afraid. She pushed those thoughts from her mind. If she started thinking about what he told her just minutes ago and let her mind keep exploring what it meant…

She couldn't do that right now. She had to focus on keeping Eliana and herself safe. And Tal.

 _Tal._

They were just past the tavern when Rosa stopped. Solas almost collided with her. "Rosa?" he asked, alarm in his voice.

She turned back to the tavern. "I have to find Tal…" She started walking for the tavern when Solas' arm gripped her by the shoulder, stopping her.

"Rosa, you cannot place yourself and Elia in danger," he chastened her. "You must go to the Chantry and take shelter there."

She blinked, staring at him. With his back to the moon his face was in shadow and difficult to read while hers would be brightly lit. She narrowed her eyes. "What's happening here, Solas? What do you know?"

"Nothing with certainty," he answered quickly and gently but firmly began shepherding her forward once more. "But I suspect this is the Elder One's retribution against the Inquisition for its interference regarding the rebel mages."

"You know more about what's going on then you've let anyone know," Rosa said, the full realization of how little she actually knew this man hitting her like a punch to the side of the head. She and Tal had long suspected Solas' orb from Hasmal had something to do with the Conclave explosion, but they'd not pushed him for answers. That may have been a mistake.

 _But how could I have known he was hiding his identity as a god?_

Quashing those thoughts, she wasn't the least bit surprised when Solas didn't answer her earlier comment. They reached the Chantry, finding a smattering of clergywomen and men in white and red ushering other women and children into the cathedral. As Rosa saw an old woman hobbling through the Chantry doors, she dug her heels in, pushing back against Solas. She wasn't an invalid. She could fight. She _should_ fight.

"I can fight," Rosa protested, shifting as she tried to grab up Eliana's sling. "They can look after Elia and—"

Solas' hands grabbed her shoulders firmly, turning her round to face him. _"If both you and I fight and die this night, what will become of Eliana?"_ he asked in a grave tone, using elven. He didn't wait for her to formulate an answer. _"She will be taken to a Circle. When they discover the full breadth of her magic they will make her Tranquil or kill her outright."_

She knew he was right, but her throat ached with emotion. Her heart galloped inside her chest, defiant. She wanted to fight. She could make a difference. She could help Tal and the Inquisition face whatever, or whoever this Elder One was. And in fighting she would be protecting Eliana, too.

"One of us must survive," Solas said, gazing hard into her eyes. "For Elia."

Seeing the flurry of panic still around her, Rosa squared her jaw with stubbornness. "The way I see it right now, none of us might survive unless we can defend this place."

Solas shook his head. "If it appears that everyone has died, promise me you will take invisibility and slip away. Do not be reckless. Save yourself and save Elia."

"No," she growled. "I'm not a coward."

His hands on her shoulders squeezed and fear darkened his eyes. "Please, _vhenan._ Trust me in this. Should all hope be lost I will slip away to find you." Before she could protest he anticipated her grievance and added, "I will of course bring Tal, if I can."

Rosa frowned, feeling Eliana squirm in her sling and whimper. Around Solas, out into the dark mountains, Rosa saw darkness on the slopes. The army outside was closing in. Her stomach felt as though she'd swallowed a bundle of living snakes that now wriggled inside her. Those shadow shapes on the mountainside were like demons, swarming to take her down, drowning all hope.

Her eyes burned with shame as she gazed back at Solas and she forced herself to nod. "I promise—just save Tal and keep yourself alive."

The warmth and relief she saw in his face eased some of her tension. An instant later his hot, clammy hands moved to her cheeks, cupping them. Then he pressed forward, kissing her, heedless of anyone watching. It ended far too soon and then he nuzzled and kissed Eliana's cheek.

As he stepped back from her, Solas smiled. "I will return," he promised and then, before Rosa could react, he spun and jogged away.

The cold night pressed in around Rosa without him. She shuddered and held Eliana closer as the baby whimpered. "Baba…?" she asked.

Rosa turned toward the Chantry, stroking her daughter's head as she answered, "Yes, Elia, that was baba."

* * *

With most of the inner circle now with him, in varying states of inebriation, Tal was confident as he led Cassandra, Blackwall, Cole, Vivienne, and Iron Bull to investigate the trebuchet furthest down the path. It wasn't firing and everyone knew that was a very bad sign. Advance troops were sure to have reached it first and killed the few scouts manning it.

Sure enough, as they reached the end of the dirt path behind the fence, Tal saw six of the strange, red lyrium poisoned Templars holding the position. He shouted to get their attention. "Hey, pig fuckers!"

The nearest soldier lifted his sword, shouting a war cry. He and another two of his warrior cohorts rushed for Tal's group. An archer in the back dropped to one knee and nocked an arrow on his longbow. Two rogues used invisibility powder, vanishing.

"Watch our flank," Blackwall called, seeing the rogues. He advanced with Cassandra to form a defensive line, shielding the mages. Iron Bull let out a bellow that Tal felt in his chest as the Qunari charged ahead, swinging his great axe.

Tal tossed powerful barriers over everyone as Vivienne moved up, unleashing the glowing spirit blade for close combat. Cole brandished knives that were still slick with blood from the Templars he killed outside Haven's gates. He vanished without the scent of invisibility powder, which made Tal frown at such strangeness. Was Cole using a spell like Tal would to go invisible or…?

An arrow flew past Tal, skipping off his barrier. Returning his attention to the fight, Tal flung an extra large fireball from the head of his staff. The archer yelped, unable to dodge in time as the flames enveloped him. He screamed, flailing as he tossed down his bow and then dropped to the ground, rolling to try and extinguish the flames.

Cassandra met a warrior's shield bash, repelling it with a determined roar. She and Blackwall maintained formation, blocking sword slashes. Further out from them, Iron Bull's great axe cleaved the Templar facing him in twain. The Qunari shouted, "Fuck yeah! Die, vints!"

Tal was really starting to like that big, horned, sexy, one-eyed giant.

A rogue popped into view, lunging with his blade at Iron Bull, but Cole appeared out of nowhere, parrying it. The second enemy rogue appeared, backing up his friend, colliding with Cole. Vivienne refreshed Bull's barrier and then stabbed with her arcane blade. The rogue crumpled, blood spewing out of his mouth as though Vivienne speared him with a real blade.

Tal rushed to help Cole but held back, afraid of hitting the strange boy with his magic instead of the rogue he tussled with. But then Cole managed to knock the other man off him and winked out of visibility again in a greenish blur. Tal spun his stave, casting winter's grasp. The rogue froze solid and then Vivienne used her staff to shatter it.

"Nicely done, my dear," she told Tal, smiling at him.

Tal grinned at her. "Thanks, Iron Lady." He wasn't sure if she meant that as legitimate praise or not, but he'd take it regardless.

Blackwall and Cassandra had dispatched the last warrior now without being wounded. The Seeker began issuing orders, pointing a gloved hand at the dirt paths leading to the trebuchet. "Iron Bull and Blackwall, stand watch. Lady Vivienne and the Herald—please help me with the trebuchet."

Everyone broke as Cassandra ordered, but then Iron Bull shouted, "Seeker!"

They looked in the Qunari's direction and saw Solas approaching. The sight of the Elvhen man made Tal's guts tangle themselves as he immediately worried about Rosa. He'd half-expected Solas wouldn't join them at all, staying with Rosa instead. It wasn't all that long ago that Rosa nearly got herself killed trying to protect Tal and Eliana.

Forgetting Cassandra's orders, Tal Fade-stepped past the Iron Bull to meet Solas. When he popped out of the maneuver he found himself almost within arm's reach of the other mage. "Where's Rosa?" he asked immediately.

"Safe within the Chantry," Solas answered.

The breathless laugh that exploded out of Tal surprised them both. "Do you know my sister at all?" he quipped. "She's not going to stay there!"

"She will stay there," Solas replied, scowling. "For Elia's sake."

That made Tal nod, accepting _that_ might work. Motherhood had definitely tempered Rosa's brash—or reckless—bravery. It helped, too, that she wasn't possessed by Rogathe and Tal was confident now the spirit of bravery was gone somehow and therefore it couldn't come to her now and turn her into a suicidal fighter, blind to all fear and reserve.

"Okay," he relented. "If you're sure."

The trebuchet clacked then, firing. Both elves turned, watching the projectile sail up and up, into the mountains. This trebuchet was aimed at the high slopes, hoping to unleash an avalanche on the lower elevations where the Templars were marching. It succeeded, sending a deep rumbling that Tal felt more than heard as the snow raced down to the darkness of the army below.

Cassandra cheered. "Praise the Maker!" Vivienne and Blackwall both lifted their respective weapons and gave similar shouts of celebration. Iron Bull pumped a fist in the air, echoing them after his own fashion with a, "Fuck yeah!"

And then a screech cut through the air, drilling into their ears. A dragon flew in on black, ugly wings. It was black skinned, as if rotting. The burst of air it sent down at them as it flew over was hard enough that it sent Blackwall and Iron Bull, the two members of their party most inebriated, stumbling into the dirt. The dragon unleashed a gout of strange red fire at the trebuchet down the line from their group. Screams rang out throughout Haven and outside it as everyone reacted with fresh horror. The army on the hillside might be decimated by the avalanche, but they had little hope of defeating the dragon so easily.

"Is that—was that an archdemon?" Cassandra asked, stammering with dread.

"I saw an archdemon in the Fade," Cole said in a soft, dark whisper from just behind Tal. "It looked like that."

"Fucking Blight," Blackwall cursed, spitting to one side. "Just what we needed right now."

"It's not an archdemon," Solas said, sounding slightly irritated.

Tal looked at him, both relieved to hear this and simultaneously doubtful. How could Solas know? Blight was a new thing, wasn't it? How could Solas be so confident? Before Tal could ask Vivienne shouted, "We must evacuate Haven. We cannot hope to face that beast."

 _Rosa_ , Tal thought, and began running up the path toward Haven's gates. Solas must have thought the same for he hurried after Tal, running beside him. _"If there is no hope of saving Haven,"_ the older man told him using elven, _"we must flee."_

"My thoughts exactly," Tal told him, grim.

They rushed through Haven's gates and found most of the cabins were aflame. Red Templars and Venatori— _that_ was the source of the strange armor Tal had seen earlier—had infiltrated the village. The armored warriors, rogues, mages, and archers were slaughtering anyone they could find on the path. Tal and his party ran into a gaggle of warriors and rogues immediately after entering the gates.

Cassandra, Blackwall, and Iron Bull charged forward, forming a defensive line again. The flurry of metal striking metal hit Tal's ears, making him wince. Solas tossed barriers over the lot of them before either Vivienne or Tal could do the same. The enchanter slashed with her spirit blade, cutting down a rogue before he could strike at their flanks. Tal lobbed fireballs at three archers rushing to reinforce the red Templars currently clashing with the Inquisition warriors.

Tal sensed hidden rogues trying to flank them. He smelled the invisibility powder and squinted his eyes at the ground, trying to spot their footprints so he knew where to aim. But then Solas motioned and a loud _whump-boom_ echoed in Tal's ears. A powerful wave of magic rolled over him, gentle but deadly all the same. It was a mind blast, focused in a wedge shape rather than a circle and able to discern friend from foe. The magic wave hit three invisible rogues, knocking them visible on impact.

One was within striking distance of Tal. Yelping with alarm, Tal let out an oversized fireball at the man. It engulfed the rogue as he fell boneless to the snow and dirt. It took Tal a second to realize that the other two rogues Solas hit were dead on impact. Their blood trickled out into the snow from every orifice, as though they'd been smashed by the mind blast.

Vivienne, ahead of them engaging the warriors, twisted round with a look of surprise. Solas was occupied with lobbing Fade stone at a distant archer and didn't notice her stare. Tal would have made a snarky comment but then he heard a familiar voice cursing colorfully from in the cluster of cabins—including his own—that had caught fire.

" _Fasta vas,_ come out and face me, filth!"

"Dorian's in trouble," he called and, without waiting to see if anyone had heeded his words, he Fade-stepped into the smoke and flames. The cabins were quickly turning into ash. The smell of it made his nasal passages burn and his eyes sting. Mud squelched under his boots, melted by the heat of the flames. He cast a barrier over himself for a little relief as he rounded a corner and saw Dorian hunched over Varric's unconscious form. Blue barriers flickered over them, protecting them both from the flames.

"Herald!" Dorian yelled as he saw him, eyes widening. "Be careful, there's a—"

A rogue appeared in front of Tal, lunging with two blades. Tal dodged, rolling sideways as he heard his barrier sizzling almost as loud as the flames. He flung his staff out sideways to strike the rogue, gaining precious distance and time. The staff impacted and he heard his opponent grunt and then hiss with pain. Tal's blow, clumsy as it was, pushed him painfully close to the fire.

That gave Tal an idea. He pulled the mana for a mind blast and unleashed it before he was fully on his feet, knocking the rogue backward and into the fiery cabin behind him. The man screamed, thrashing as he scrambled to escape. A block of Fade stone crashed into him a second later and the rogue's screams went silent.

Tal turned to see Solas coming up behind him. The Elvhen man idly refreshed their barriers. "We must hurry!"

Nodding, Tal scrambled toward the fiery alleyway where Dorian and an unconscious Varric still waited. He lifted his hands, summoning winter magic, pushing the overeager flames back a few feet. From behind him a cold wind whistled, making the fires gutter and weaken over a much wider space as Solas cast a blizzard to suppress the whole area.

What happened?" Tal asked as he stooped, grabbing Varric's body with a grunt. He summoned healing spirit magic, funneling it into the dwarf.

"Those cretins ambushed us," Dorian said, yelling to be heard over the fire.

"I only saw the one," Tal said and joked before he could stop himself. "Was that one rogue too much for you to handle?"

" _Vishante kaffas,"_ Dorian said, huffing. "I burned the other _three_ of them before you got here and the rogue took down Varric."

"Likely story," Tal said, laughing as Varric groggily opened his eyes and started to move, bearing his own weight.

" _Kaffas,"_ Dorian cursed again, still flustered.

They helped Varric out of the alleyway, rejoining Solas and then hurrying to catch up with the rest of their party—only to encounter another bunch of Venatori and Templars streaming out of the hills.

"Oh look," Dorian grumbled. "More of my esteemed countrymen."

"Very rude of them to show up uninvited," Tal quipped as he tossed barriers over himself, Dorian, Varric, and Cole, who all lingered closer to him.

Iron Bull led the charge with Cassandra and Blackwall just behind him. The Qunari's great axe cut down a rogue who moved just a little too slowly but three warriors beyond locked shields and withstood the Bull's onslaught. Blue barriers flickered over them, revealing that this group had at least one Venatori mage serving them.

Cole vanished, but Tal sensed the waft of air as the young man took off to the left, toward the shadow of the hillside. Looking in that direction Tal saw the Venatori mage hiding just outside a frosty bush. Tal quickly dispelled the Venatori's barrier, clearing the way for Cole to lunge out of the shadows in a dagger strike. Dorian finished the mage off with a flurry of lightning.

The dragon flew by, screeching. More of its sickly red lyrium fire landed with a crystalline crackling amidst the shamble of tents outside the Chantry where Leliana had set up shop. The spymaster wasn't there now, of course, but a few scouts cried out with alarm, rushing away. Scrolls and papers fluttered out of their hands as they ran. If the Inquisition survived this night at all they needed to secure their secrets as best they could. Fortunately it seemed the dragon fire would clean up anything the terrified scouts missed.

The last of their attackers fell when Vivienne speared another rogue who tried to ambush her through the side. A Chantry clergyman called to them from the cathedral.

"Hurry!" he called, and Tal recognized his voice. This was Roderick. "Inside! The Chantry is your shelter!"

As Tal hurried inside, eyes already searching the huddled crowds of wounded fighters, stunned civilians, and tearful noncombatants, he heard a scuffle behind him. Turning round, Tal saw Cole lunge forward to catch Roderick as he collapsed. The young rogue pulled Roderick's arm over his shoulders, supporting him as they walked deeper into the Chantry. When Cole caught Tal's eye he said, "He tried to stop a Templar. The blade went deep. He's going to die."

Tal winced. He'd never much liked Roderick, but admired his bravery now nonetheless.

"Herald," Cullen said, rushing over time out of the crowd. Tal braced himself, seeing the grim look on the commander's face. "Our position is not good. That dragon stole back any time you might have earned us."

Tal nodded quickly. "How do we kill it?" He twisted around, trying to see the Seeker. "Weren't the Pentaghasts big time dragon hunters?"

Cullen shook his head, dismal and dour. "Even a thousand dragon slayers will do us no good! With the path that dragon has cut for the Elder One's army we'll be overrun! Everyone will be killed—every last man, woman, and child."

"The Elder One doesn't care about the village," Cole put in then. "He only wants the Herald."

Now Cole felt as though his guts had turned to water. He stared at Cole, his lips parted and his mind empty except for the overwhelming pulse of icy black fear trying to drown him from within. He was too young to die, especially not like this. He was no one. A nobody. All his life he longed for recognition and respect, trying to shed his underdog persona as the Bastard of clan Ghilath. _This_ was _not_ how he wanted to shed it! He hadn't _chosen_ this. It was foisted onto him completely against his will!

"He only wants to kill you," Cole repeated, but then added, "But he'll kill everyone else in his way, too. You don't have to die to save anyone. He's a bad man. I don't like him."

"You don't like him?" Cullen asked, exasperated as he spread his hands and then scoffed, waving Cole's input away. "Herald," he said, returning to Tal now. "There are no tactics to make this survivable. The only thing that slowed them was the avalanche. We could turn the remaining trebuchets, cause one last slide."

"That would bury us, too," Tal said, still feeling physically ill.

"We're dying," Cullen said, snarling at the ugly truth. "But at least we can decide how. Many don't get that choice."

Then Cole piped up again, drawing an ailing Chancellor Roderick into the conversation. Tal listened mutely as the clergyman described a path that could lead the others out of the Chantry and into the Frostbacks. The bulk of the Inquisition could survive, provided the Elder One and his army were distracted…with the one thing they wanted above all else.

When Cullen asked how Tal could escape, he turned his head to evade the commander's probing gaze. This was suicide and they all knew it. Tal fought to keep breathing. He was too young to die. And dying away from his clan, for a human religion that had gutted his people and demonized magic? He was dying for nothing, before he ever amounted to anything.

And yet if he tried to take on invisibility and just flee with Rosa, Solas, and Eliana he knew he'd carry a world's worth of grief and shame for abandoning all these people. And it wouldn't remove the problem, either. The Elder One would just have to hunt him down again. Wherever he was, Tal would endanger those around him. To protect Rosa and Eliana he'd need to leave them and remain alone.

But still the panic and breath-stealing terror flapped in his chest. He couldn't _do_ this…

Cole was in front of him then, pale blue eyes sad and tender. "It's okay to be upset," he said gently. "It's not for nothing. _You_ are more than you think. They will remember you. You won't be what you were, ever again. You won't have to run. Your sister will be safe, and so will the little one. Solas will keep them safe." Then, whispering, he added, "Don't lose hope. There's always a way…"

When Cole reached out, gently laying a hand on Tal's shoulder, the freezing grip of existential fear released its hold on Tal's throat and chest. He breathed several times, shoulders slumping. At the same time, new understanding leapt to him as he regarded Cole.

"You're not human," he murmured. "You're a spirit." He couldn't be a demon. He was too…compassionate.

Cole didn't react to his comment. Instead his eyes narrowed slightly and his brow furrowed as he said, "You _did_ know me, before…" Apparently whatever insight Tal received from Cole when they touched had gone two ways.

Then Cole recoiled as if Tal had spit in his face. He looked down at the floor, fidgeting and wringing his hands. "I…you weren't supposed to know that?" Oddly, he phrased that as a question, as if he expected Tal—or someone else—to answer.

Tal scowled. "What are you on about?"

But then Cullen interrupted their discussion, showing no reaction to any part of Tal's exchange with the spirit. It was as if he hadn't heard it. After Cullen's short debriefing, Tal walked away to find volunteers for this last, suicidal march.

And he had to bid Rosa and Eliana goodbye. Because Cole was right. He wasn't dying for nothing. Far from it, in fact. He was dying to save Rosa, Eliana, Solas, and every other member of the Inquisition. Faithful Cassandra, clever Leliana, courageous Cullen, eloquent Josephine. The Brazen Iron Bull, suave Vivienne, witty Varric, and irreverent Sera. Charming Blackwall, compassionate Cole, and dashing Dorian.

He wished he could have known them all longer. He wished he'd spent less of it drunk and then, paradoxically, he wished he'd spent more of it inebriated. Uninhibited, anyway. He wished he could guzzle Varric's whiskey now and take shots of brandy with Dorian so he didn't have to _feel_ so much.

He found Dorian first. The other man was working with Vivienne and the rebel mages to heal burns, cuts, and scrapes. He stood quickly when he noticed Tal, smiling with a mixture of weariness and affection. "Herald," he said in greeting and then quickly amended it. "Sorry. I meant Tal. I know how your titles so offend you."

"Yeah," Tal agreed, swallowing the bulge of emotion in his throat. "No titles right now. I don't want you to remember me that way."

Dorian's expression went completely somber and grim. "What's happened?"

"I'm heading out for one last trip to fight the Elder One's army to buy time so the rest of the Inquisition can escape." He pinched his lips together and averted his eyes. "I don't expect anyone joining me to stay the whole time. I just need to get to the last trebuchet. Once I get there everyone else can run back here. The Elder One only wants me. No point in you or anyone else dying." He lifted his eyes back to Dorian and cracked a dry smile. "Any chance you'd like to go with me?"

Dorian's jaw muscles worked, snapping taut. His warm brown eyes were sad and full of tenderness. "I would be honored," he murmured. "It's the least I can do as these cretins are my countrymen."

Tal felt something inside him ease with relief. He didn't want Dorian to die tonight, but he'd been afraid the other man would refuse. "Thank you," he said and then hurriedly went on, "But you could have told me no. I can't promise you'll survive and I don't want to get you killed."

"Did I stutter earlier?" Dorian asked, smirking as he edged a little closer. "These are my countrymen. I _need_ to be there."

 _Fenedhis._ Tal wanted so badly to kiss him. Even now, amidst the carnage and burning of their home around them, Dorian's breath smelled like mint. His mustache was still meticulously shaped. Only the press of the rest of the Inquisition around him kept Tal from closing the distance between them for a little kiss. Just…one…

Before he died. Or before both of them died.

Nodding, he took a deliberate step back. "Thank you." He cleared his throat, self-conscious at how raspy it was with his tumultuous emotions. "We'll leave soon, I just need to round up a few others and…say goodbye to my sister."

Dorian's face warped with sympathetic grief. "I will be ready," he said and then, as Tal turned to walk away, he used a word Tal didn't know. _"Amatus."_

* * *

 **Next Chapter**

"The Inquisition isn't doomed," Tal cut in now, quiet and serious. "Chancellor Roderick will lead everyone out safely. Unless I distract the Elder One, everyone here will die."

"That's why I'm coming with you," Rosa insisted, teeth still bared as though she planned to fight both Tal and Solas.

"No," Tal said, backing Solas. "I can't let you do that and I'm not going to make Solas come with me if he doesn't want to. Stay with the Inquisition. Keep Elia safe." He choked, fighting to restrain the sudden surge of emotion. "Maybe tell her when she's older how much I loved her."

* * *

I do feel like there's a lot of quick bonding between Inky (male or female) and Dorian, at least if you play in a way that earns his approval. He's so flirtatious and funny, but deeply passionate. And I think, like Solas, he's so lonely. He says he's used to being a pariah, but...he has a big heart and I know it must hurt him to have others judge him for being from Tevinter and gay. And when facing death, as in this situation, why not let slip that building emotion? Especially when Tal doens't know what you just said.

Sorry for the delay on this. I didn't want to update this one without updating Rosa and her update just wasn't ready yet. Also, unfortunately, due to timing, Rosa hasn't had a chance to react to Solas' HUGE reveal. You'll see more of that next chapter.

Thank you to all my readers and reviewers!

KiraChan, sorry about the cliffy! But I bet you never saw that coming! LOL. Solas actually listened to himself this time! Who'd have thunk it!

Whitewolf! Thanks again for turning me onto AO3. It's been fun seeing their reaction to my older work. They still have so much left for me to post! And thank you for the slow clap! Haha!

And Cookie, thrilled I surprised you! I'm glad to still be able to surprise everyone in this version, considering how much of the surprises have already been explored in RST. But yeah, obviously this will play out very differently!


	16. In Your Heart Part 2: Wolf Rescue

**Sixteen**

In Your Heart Part 2: Wolf Rescue

* * *

When Tal had gathered three of his inner circle and a smattering of unwounded soldiers to agree to escort him out to the trebuchet, he finally decided to give Rosa the bad news. He found her in a dark corner, secluded from the rest of the huddled humanity within the sanctuary. He guessed she chose that spot to make it easier in case she needed to take invisibility and flee…and probably so she could feed Eliana without scandalizing Chantry Mothers. That was kind of ironic, actually, that the Chantry Mothers might find an actual mother feeding her baby offensive. But humans were weird like that.

Unsurprisingly, Solas was with her, standing beside her like a protective bodyguard. Unexpectedly, however, the two of them seemed stiff around each other. Tal wondered only in passing what might've happened. It hardly mattered now.

When she saw him Rosa left the corner, hurrying to embrace him. _"Da'ismalin,"_ she said breathily, already halfway crying as though she sensed what he was about to tell her. She cupped his cheeks in her hands when she pulled back, tilting his head back like his mother would have when inspecting for dirt or cuts. Tal tolerated her fussing for a moment before grasping her wrists gently in his hands to pull them away from his face.

"What's wrong?" Rosa whispered and then switched to elven. _"Solas and I are ready to escape from here with the invisibility spell as soon as you are ready."_

He clenched his jaw, a little taken aback at how easily she was ready to flee. "I'm sorry…that won't be possible." Dropping his eyes to the floor, he explained, "The Elder One wants me. Only me. Unless I go out there _no one_ will get away."

Rosa drew in a small quavering breath. Cold silence reigned for several long seconds and when Tal lifted his gaze he saw she was openly crying, fighting to maintain a measure of composure. "There's no other way?" she asked, though her tone suggested she already guessed the answer.

"No," Tal told her and cracked a hopeless, miserable smile. "I'd run away with you if I could in a heartbeat. But this fucker will just chase me…" He blinked and then flicked away the tears that escaped his eyes. "So there's nothing for it. I have to go out there and die distracting him."

Now Rosa shook her head, baring her teeth in a snarl. "No," she growled. "You don't." Twisting at the waist, she motioned at Solas. He stepped forward, grim and pale. "Keep him safe," she told Solas. _Commanded_ him was more like it.

Solas' brow furrowed and he shot Tal an anxious, uncomfortable look that bordered on shame. Tal kept his own expression blank when he saw that. Something really _weird_ had happened here. Instead of agreeing to join Tal, Solas said, "I cannot take such a risk. If I die you and Elia will be in great danger."

Rosa's glare was dangerous. _"Can_ you even die? You're stronger than you let on."

Tal blinked. _What the fuck?_ Had Rosa lost her senses to grief? Sure, Solas was Elvhen, but Rosa had told him he was _definitely_ mortal now. He had already quickened, as all elves in this modern age. Had she learned otherwise now? And even so, it was one thing to be immortal to death through the ravages of time and disease. It was quite another thing to be immune to death from violence. Even the immortal Elvhen were killable with fire and swords.

They knew that from their father's stories of the fact that Felassan himself was dead.

Solas scowled and shot Tal an uneasy look before speaking to Rosa. "I am not as strong as you imagine." He lowered his voice to something barely above a whisper. "I _can_ indeed die, as well." Turning to Tal, Solas slipped into elven. _"Please reconsider. The three of us can slip unnoticed out of this valley and into the mountains. The Inquisition is doomed, which is regrettable, but there is no sense in your death."_

Tal regarded the two of them, shocked. "The Elder One will just come after me," he repeated, but that dark place inside that was desperately afraid wavered. And yet this behavior from Rosa was also so strange. He shook his head and leaned closer to his sister to ask in elven, _"Are you possessed? You_ never _run away from a fight."_

Rosa swallowed, her eyes wet and her chin wrinkling. Her hands rubbed idly over Eliana's sling. The baby inside made no sound and didn't move, likely sleeping. "That was before I had a baby to worry about," she said, but Tal could see the pain and shame in her face. She might _want_ to fight, but she wanted to live for Eliana more.

Yet she glared meaningfully at Solas. "But just because _I_ cannot fight doesn't mean _Solas_ can't." Her violet eyes were full of challenge now as she spoke to Solas again. "Protect him from this monster. _Please._ "

Still Solas held back. He shook his head. "There is too much at risk for me to—"

"If you won't help," Rosa snapped, interrupting him, "I will." She grabbed the sling, grunting as she started lifting it over her head. "You can take Elia and—"

Solas stepped close, taking her hands in his to still them. "That is not an option," he told her, steel in his voice.

"The Inquisition isn't doomed," Tal cut in now, quiet and serious. "Chancellor Roderick will lead everyone out safely. Unless I distract the Elder One, everyone here will die."

"That's why I'm coming with you," Rosa insisted, teeth still bared as though she planned to fight both Tal and Solas.

"No," Tal said, backing Solas. "I can't let you do that and I'm not going to make Solas come with me if he doesn't want to. Stay with the Inquisition. Keep Elia safe." He choked, fighting to restrain the sudden surge of emotion. "Maybe tell her when she's older how much I loved her."

Rosa let out a strangled sob. _"Da'isamalin,"_ she cried, nostrils flaring. "Please don't do this…" She looked desperately again to Solas and this time the Elvhen man stiffened, nodding solemnly.

"I will go with him," he said, meeting Rosa's eye. "I will save him, if I can." He looked at Tal, grief and that strange shame darkening his features again.

"I'm not going to hold it against you if you cut and run when it starts looking bad," Tal said seriously. Facing Rosa, he said, "Don't hold it against him if I wind up dead, okay?"

Rosa made a motion with her head that was somehow both a nod and a shake. She forced a teary smile. "You're going to come back. Say it, Tal." When he hesitated she raised her voice, "Say it, _da'isamalin!"_

He tried for the umpteenth time to swallow the painful lump in his throat, to no avail. "I'll come back."

Rosa pulled him into a tight embrace, shifting to avoid squishing Eliana. The baby whimpered, shaken awake by the sibling's hug. Tal laid a hand over the sling, feeling his niece's body heat through the halla fur. Rosa tugged the edge down to let Eliana blink out. Letting Tal see her one last time. Ducking down, Tal kissed the top of her downy head and then drew away to do the same to Rosa.

He managed a smile as he parted from her. "I'll come back," he said, though he knew the words were almost certainly a lie.

"Yes," Rosa said, breaking down but still struggling to speak. "You will come back." Her eyes leapt then to Solas. "Both of you."

As Solas moved to say goodbye to her next, Tal left them to the front of the Chantry, where his little suicide squad had assembled. Dorian was there, smiling in a way that broke Tal's heart at how handsome he was—but also what heart he had so clearly beneath his wittiness and posh clothing.

So many of their recruits had generic reasons for joining the Inquisition—a desire to travel, to learn to fight, to serve the Chantry, to elevate their position in life, or just because it seemed like the prudent and correct thing to do with the sky torn asunder as it was. But Dorian's reason had always captured Tal's interest above all else as pure and unselfish. He was here to represent his country, to show Thedas that Tevinter was not their enemy. His presence here alone might be enough to defuse tensions between the southern Chantry and Tevinter, because an emergency like the breach in the sky would certainly be justification enough to motivate the Andrastian faithful in an Exalted March. Dorian's personal risk in coming here was great, but the reward for his people was massive. And, on top of all that, he wanted to _change_ his country for the better.

Tal might be a shitty leader, but he knew he admired Dorian.

Beyond Dorian Tal had recruited Cole, the Iron Bull, and now Solas. Cassandra and Blackwall would have come with him if he asked, but Tal didn't want to rob the Inquisition of all of its fighters. If the path ahead wasn't safe for some reason they needed warriors like the Seeker and the Warden to see them through.

As Tal reached them, Iron Bull grunted. "Ready to crack some Vint skulls?"

Dorian let out a longsuffering sigh that had Tal smirking, especially when he saw Iron Bull's amused expression. He knew full-well he was irritating Dorian, reminding him that the scum who were probably going to kill the lot of them were men from his nation.

"Just make sure you watch where you swing that thing," Dorian quipped. "Not _all_ the Vint skulls out there are Venatori."

Iron Bull shrugged. "Eh, close enough." The Qunari grinned then. "But the dragon is mine. I get first blow and last. Got it?"

"What?" Cole asked, clearly confused. "She's not yours. She's _his._ "

Dorian heaved another sigh and then offered Tal another slight, clever smile. "Shall we get on with it then?"

Tal glanced behind him and saw Solas slowly making his way through the crowd. "Yeah. Let's do it." He walked forward.

"Perhaps we can save _that_ for afterward?" Dorian quipped teasingly as Tal walked past. "If we survive, of course."

Despite the direness of the situation, Tal felt his cheeks flush. "Make it a date then," he said and winked. _Creators, I only wish…_

* * *

Their little band of distraction fighters spilled out into Haven. Smoke stung Solas' eyes and scratched at his throat. Blight-tainted fires burned on all the cabins. Haven was fast becoming ash around them. Red Templars and Venatori roamed the streets, quick to attack anything that moved.

Solas didn't hold back as they made their way toward the last trebuchet. The dragon still circled overhead occasionally, but it seemed to have lost interest in spraying the village with its flames. The beast's shrill call still sent chills down Solas' spine and had him nervously refreshing barriers repeatedly.

At the village gates they found a group of warriors, mages, and rogues twice the size of their party. Iron Bull roared and raced in, spinning with his great axe to cut a swathe. He caught a rogue, slicing him clean in two. Two warriors faltered, falling back. Fear shone in their eyes, colored red by the tainted flames. Then their strange new member, Cole, blinked into appearance behind them and struck them both, one knife to each.

Through the distraction of revealing the truth to Rosa just before the attack, and then now fighting for his life and his little family, Solas hadn't picked out the newcomer for what he was—until now. This was no ordinary young man. Judging by the way he flickered in and out of visibility at will, with a glimmer of green from the Fade, Solas at once suspected he was a spirit. But what kind? He might not uncover that until they had a moment of peace when he could interact with the boy.

Dorian and Tal formed the core of their group, always working together. Solas backed them and watched their flank. As Iron Bull lashed out at more of the warriors, struggling to get through their shining shields, Solas sensed hostile magic prickling his skin from behind. Swinging about, Solas unleashed a mind blast, smashing the offending Venatori mage into the ground so hard the crack of bone resounded through the chilly air.

Another mage lobbed fireballs at him, but they broke over his barrier. Solas retaliated quickly with a fireball of his own, but _much_ bigger. The flame consumed the Venatori mage, making him scream for a few seconds before he dissolved into ash.

In surprisingly little time they'd defeated the troupe of enemy mages, rogues, and warriors. They set off again, hurrying through the burning ruins of what had once been a nice little mountain town. And while Solas was in no way a believer in the Andrastian faith, he'd still enjoyed the peacefulness of Haven village. Seeing it burn left him cold and empty inside.

They found the trebuchet guarded by a smattering of red Templars and Venatori. The enemies shouted an alarm even before the Inquisition party reached the end of the path. Archers dropped to their knees and shot from their powerful longbows. Solas refreshed everyone's barriers and saw with satisfaction the way the arrows dissolved as they impacted, then fell away from the sizzling blue shield.

"Shoot me again, asshole!" Tal taunted. When the archer took aim and fired, Tal Fade-stepped, letting the arrow pass harmlessly through him.

Dorian struck the archer with a blast of purple lightning before Tal could reach him, making the man jerk and gurgle, dropping his longbow. As Tal exited the Fade-step he whacked the archer on the side of the head. Blood sprayed over the snow. "Eat it," Tal shouted, apparently channeling Sera.

Solas Fade-stepped, much further than Tal had, to join the Herald. Right in that moment a rogue popped visible and lunged for them both, daggers glinting. Solas reacted with a mind blast that knocked the rogue backward and then he made a fist and jerked it down to cast a Veilstrike. The crunch of bone again echoed through the air.

Tal whistled at him. "Nice, old timer."

Solas rolled his eyes but said nothing. Instead he refreshed the barriers of everyone nearby—himself, Tal, and Iron Bull. Dorian was too far away and currently taking out a Venatori mage.

Tal Fade-stepped away to join Dorian, but his effort proved needless as Cole appeared and backstabbed the enemy mage. Solas turned his attention to Iron Bull, who was engaged with two Venatori warriors. He lobbed two Fade stones back to back, smashing both men. The first one took the hit to the head, crushing his helmet and probably his skull too. He crumpled to the snow. The second man only staggered, wounded but still alive—right up until Iron Bull brought down the haft of his axe onto the fighter's head, killing him.

And, suddenly, they were alone. For the moment.

"The trebuchet!" Tal yelled. He started for it, Fade-stepping partway. Dorian and Cole moved after him. Solas stayed on the periphery, scanning the two paths leading to their clearing from Haven. Iron Bull did the same, bloodied axe still upright and ready.

"I'd bet my good eye the damn Vints will show up before they get that thing turned," Iron Bull said as he walked closer to Solas. His face was set in a scowl.

"There is little sense in blinding yourself before you are inevitably proven right," Solas quipped, somehow managing to smile.

The Qunari grinned at him and laughed, a little too loud for Solas' liking. "You know, man? You're all right."

Solas frowned, but before he could make any reply he spotted movement on the path. "There they are," he murmured and refreshed his and Iron Bull's barriers. "Right on time."

* * *

As Tal registered the sound of fighting from beyond the trebuchet, he cursed. Dorian was at the controls, having taken over when he decided Tal wasn't cracking it fast enough. He and Cole watched as four warriors rushed at Iron Bull and Solas. Three rogues and another archer appeared from the other path.

Cole glanced at him, his brow furrowed with worry. "I'm going to help."

Tal made sure to cast a barrier over the three of them. "Go for it," he told Cole. "I'll be right beside you as soon as Dorian has finished with this thing."

Dorian grunted with effort. The crank groaned as the leather, metal, and wood strained under the load. "Quit stalling," he grumbled. "Off with you!"

"I'm not going to leave you," Tal rejoined at once. "You need someone to guard you."

Cole disappeared in his unusual glimmer of green. A moment later he lunged out of nowhere to stab a rogue in the back. Solas swiftly refreshed the strange spirit boy's barrier.

Tal had noticed Solas used _very_ powerful barriers. He wasn't taking any chances. He fully intended to return Tal alive to Rosa.

Tal hoped that would be what happened. He fidgeted, wringing his hands as he looked between Dorian at the crank and their three companions fighting the constant trickle of Venatori and poisoned Templars. _Please hurry,_ he thought at Dorian. _Hurry, so I can send you away and maybe, just maybe, I can follow you to safety…_

Then he heard grunting and the thump of hands on wood. Whipping around, Tal saw a rogue climbing the wooden periphery fence. "Shit," he cursed and quickly spun his stave, casting chain lightning. The rogue yelped, falling as his body seized with the storm magic. Unfortunately, he wasn't alone. Tal heard several others seize, teeth clattering as their grips slipped. But they weren't dead.

"We're surrounded," Tal said, moving to the other side of the crank. He grabbed at the handle, trying to pry Dorian off it. "Let me! You go!"

" _Fasta vas,"_ Dorian snarled and slapped at him. "I said I would do it!"

"You need to get out of here," Tal shouted at him. "I don't want you to get trapped here and die with me."

Dorian lifted his eyes, glinting in the cold moonlight. His hands continued working on the crank, turning it, but everything else fell away from Tal's world. "I'm not leaving you," he said, mirroring Tal's earlier, much more casual words.

Tal stared, heart hammering—until he heard the first rogue land after scaling the fence. Yelping, Tal flung fireballs at him, heedless of the fact that he'd set the fence ablaze, too. A warrior dropped down next and Tal froze him, spinning his stave. The next one was a mage, who tossed barriers over his fellows. Tal dispelled it, grinning hard, only to hear the distinctive crackle of an ice mine forming beneath both he and Dorian.

"Fuck," he said, drawing the word out in frustration. He turned to spring for Dorian, to haul him from danger, but then the ice mine disappeared. Looking back to the mage, Tal saw Cole standing behind the Venatori, his daggers dripping with blood. The enemy mage collapsed.

"There!" Dorian yelled triumphantly. "That's done it!" His face, shining with sweat, was bright and beautiful. His teeth gleamed as he grinned. "It's ready to fire!"

"Will we have enough time to get back to—"

A screech cut him off, as did the high-pitched whine of an incoming gout of the red lyrium dragon's fire. Tal spun on his heel, looking up, mouth gawping. Distantly, he heard Iron Bull and Solas shouting at him, but their words blurred in his periphery as he saw the red tainted fireball surging in. it looked as though it would hit the trebuchet, destroying their efforts and dashing their hopes.

He felt sick. He really was going to die for nothing.

"You idiot!" Dorian suddenly yelled, rushing for him. "Run!"

Tal had an instant to see Dorian streaking toward him before they collided. And, almost simultaneously, the world seemed to explode around him. Smoke burned his throat, filling his mouth. The crackle and roar of flames deafened his ears. His head hurt, throbbing from an impact he didn't remember.

He found himself staring up into the black sky, watching as gray-black smoke, painted orange-red by the fires burning nearby, rose up in a plume. He groaned, trying to find the strength to get up. Everything felt heavy as lead. Everything hurt. It would be much easier to just lay here and accept what was coming…

But then two things happened. First, he remembered Rosa, crying as she clung to him. _You're going to come back._ He must get up. Even if he failed, he had to try. He couldn't let her down by just laying here.

Then the second thing happened. Through the ground he felt tremors and heard the gurgle of a beast—far too close. Fear made his heart pound and his stomach lurch. That allowed him to overcome the pain as he scrambled to his feet.

Through blurry double-vision Tal saw the dragon's fire had missed the trebuchet, though flames burned perilously close to its base. Tal cringed against the smoke, covering his mouth and nose with one hand as he turned from the trebuchet, trying to find his companions. There was no sign of Iron Bull, Cole, or Solas. But, as he turned, Tal's eyes found Dorian's crumpled body.

Horror gripped him, icy hands closing on his throat. He rushed for the other mage, falling to his knees with healing spirit magic already glowing in both palms. "Dammit, Dorian!" he yelled, coughing and spluttering. His eyes streamed moisture and he couldn't tell if it was from the smoke or the emotion roiling inside.

Relief made him weak when he found his magic sank into Dorian, working on him. He was still alive. Tal siphoned some of the mana back, trying to taste it and see what was wrong with Dorian, how serious were his injuries. The response was sadly a little too familiar. _Concussion._

Dorian must have halfway shielded him from the blast.

"You stupid, beautiful idiot," Tal growled as he forced more healing magic into him. "You were supposed to get away!"

And then, from out of the flame and smoke ahead, Tal heard the rustle of someone walking. He looked up in time to see the too-tall, twisted frame of…a monster. Pale skinned, and wearing torn clothes, with red crystals jutting out of him in what looked like a painful chaos, Tal could do nothing but stare.

Something…strange lingered at the edge of Tal's senses. Something heavy. He felt a similar sensation in the Fade as a child when Rosa first visited his dreams. It was reminiscent of what he perceived as raw power in the Fade, or perhaps a sign of where the Veil was thin.

He'd felt this before, but he wasn't sure when…

Dorian groaned, stirring faintly beneath his hand. Tal gripped his shoulder, squeezing. "Don't move," he warned and then quickly hopped up, moving away from Dorian. If he could keep this weird creature from noticing Dorian there might be a chance for his friend to slip away.

But then came the roar of the dragon and the leathery clap of wings. The ground shook and Tal stumbled, half falling as he tossed a barrier over himself—and Dorian, too, without thinking.

"Enough," the thing approaching him called out and motioned with his arms, sending a spray of harsh wind, laden with dust, ash, snow, and smoke. Tal cringed against it, wincing. The dragon stamped its enormous legs, appearing out of the smoke behind him. Trapping him.

"Pretender," the thing said to him. "You toy with forces beyond your ken. No more."

* * *

The icy wind ripped mercilessly at Rosa's hair, driving snowflakes into her eyes to blind her. She heard crying and shouts from the rest of the hobbled Inquisition around them. Occasionally a bronto lowed or a horse whinnied. But otherwise there was only the roar of the wind in her ears and the harsh gasp of her breath.

Eliana alternated between whimpering, outright crying, and then going silent as exhaustion claimed her. This was not their usual pattern of activity and they both knew it. Neither of them was happy about it.

But at least Rosa could keep herself and her baby warm, that was more than most of these refugees could say. She burned mana every so often idly, banishing the cold and warding off the numbness where snow and wind bit at her exposed skin. But each pulse of heat melted more of the sticky snow clinging to her fur-lined cloak, her surcoat, and Eliana's sling. Soon she had to burn it more and more often just to ward away the chill of wetness.

She tried not to think about Tal and Solas. She tried not to puzzle out the odds of their survival. She tried not to remember what Solas told her about who and what he truly was, because it both terrified her and filled her with hope. If he truly _was_ Fen'Harel, powerful enough that he was mistaken for a god, surely the Elder One bearing down on Haven would be no threat? And then, even as she tried to draw reassurance from that, she reeled back from it, unable to reconcile her lover with the myths and dark legends of the Dread Wolf.

It seemed an eternity before they reached a stand of trees, providing modest shelter from the fierce wind. Rosa tried to huddle in the snow-shadow around one bushy pine as a few desperate humans struggled to light a fire. Cursing and teeth chattering echoed from around these pathetic hearths as the Inquisition refugees tried to warm themselves against the storm. The rebel mages were a welcome sight now for most of these people as they easily started fires despite the soggy kindling and freezing temperatures.

Rosa tried to nurse Eliana, but the baby proved fussy and fickle. She wanted to sleep. She wanted to cuddle. She'd suckled more than enough with nervousness while Rosa waited in the Chantry for the evacuation. Now she was in dire need of a nappy change and exhausted. But the attack happened so suddenly Rosa hadn't brought any supplies. She hadn't even eaten dinner.

"Mistress Lavellan?" a thin voice called through the whistle of the wind. "Mistress Lavellan? Lady Rosa?"

Dimly, Rosa recognized the speaker was Tal's ambassador, Josephine. She didn't reply for several long moments as her mind flitted to an insane plan. She would hide from the Inquisition and let them leave her behind. Then she'd trek back to the caverns Chancellor Roderick led them through and make her way to Haven. She'd find Solas and Tal, save them, or…or…

The idea fizzled as soon as Eliana whimpered again, upset at the damp chill and her wet nappy. Rosa's eyes smarted with tears of frustration and anguish. Torn in two, she had to sacrifice family for family. Tal and Solas might die trying to save her and the Inquisition and there was nothing she could do about it without risking Eliana.

She rocked back and forth against the bushy pine, squashing the internal agony of helplessness, uselessness, and loss. To choose between her brother, her lover, and her daughter…it was unthinkable. But she had done it. She let Tal and Solas go.

Then she heard the ambassador's strained call again, much closer. "Lady Rosa?"

Looking up, Rosa saw Josephine's dark shape against the snow. The human woman seemed surprised, as if she hadn't expected she'd actually find her charge. "Mistress Lavellan? Are you all right? Is the little one…?"

Rosa sniffed, biting back her grief. "We're fine, ambassador. How can I help you?"

"We are about to begin moving once more," Josephine told her, wringing her hands. "We cannot wait any longer for the Herald and those accompanying him to find us."

"Did you come here just to tell me you think my brother and Solas and everyone else that went with them are dead?"

The ambassador seemed to flinch. "Maker, no! I merely…Well, Seeker Pentaghast wished to offer you a seat in one of the wagons."

Rosa sighed. She couldn't turn that offer down. The chance of some rest, no matter how cold, wet, and miserable, was impossible to resist. She had to think of Eliana now. The baby was all that mattered, the life she had chosen to protect above both brother and lover.

"Thank you," Rosa said and heaved herself up out of the snow-shadow about the base of the bushy pine. Josephine extended a hand to help her. "I really appreciate that."

"Of course," Josephine said and Rosa didn't miss the catch in her voice. "It's the least we can do for you."

 _The least you can do for me now that I have lost my brother and Eliana's father?_

But even as she felt her eyes sting with grief anew, a shout rose up through the dark trees. "Runners! From the caverns!"

The group tensed, reaching for weapons. There was no reason the approaching runners couldn't be the Elder One's people. But, as Rosa squinted through the rush of blinding white snow, she recognized the silhouette approaching them—tall, thickly built, and with horns.

A cheer went up as more of the refugees lowered their guard. Rosa saw a few mercenaries she knew worked for Iron Bull rush out to meet him, shouting with joy. And then other shapes appeared out of the snowstorm like black ghosts. Rosa's heart pounded hard on her breastbone as she saw an elven figure, lean and lithe, limping heavily. But as the elf drew closer her stomach sank and her heart ached anew at the loss. This was just some straggler the Iron Bull picked up in his last mad dash through Haven.

"What of the Herald?" Josephine asked, leaving Rosa to reach the Qunari and learn what he had to report. "Is he with you?"

Iron Bull panted, breathing hard and huddling into himself for warmth. "No," he said, his voice grating and gruff between violent shivering. "Sorry."

The Qunari's eye found her. Rosa shrank from it, one hand clutching across Eliana's sling as she recoiled. "Sorry. It's just me and…" He frowned, as if confused and turned to look around at the few stragglers he'd brought in. "Well, I guess it's just me. Solas was with me when we got separated by that damned dragon, but we were attacked and he just…disappeared. I don't know what happened to the Herald or Dorian." He hung his head. "I'm sorry."

Numb, but not from the cold, Rosa turned toward Josephine without seeing her. "Please," she said, "can you show me to the wagon?"

* * *

"What—who the fuck are you?" Tal shouted at the bizarre, tall and gangly monster approaching him. He was defiant despite the hammering terror of his heart. He had to keep the dragon behind him and this monster in front of him from noticing Dorian. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the other mage moving, slightly.

"Mortals beg for truth they cannot have. It is beyond what you are; what I was. Know me. Know what you have pretended to be," the thing said, his voice deep and gravelly. It stood, grotesque and lit by the tainted flames all around them. "Exalt the Elder One. The—"

"I never pretended to be shit!" Tal yelled, heedless of the fact he was interrupting this…thing.

"I am Corypheus," the thing went on, but Tal thought he detected a hint of irritation and that tickled him, just a little bit. "You _will_ kneel!"

"Fuck off!" Tal spluttered, even as he tried not to vomit with terror. He was about to die. He hoped, desperately, that it would be quick.

And then Corypheus produced an orb covered in fine whorls. It crackled yellow-green in his twisted, clawed hand. The sight of it, the weight in the back of Tal's mind, snapped him taut. Like a rabbit caught in the wolf's stare, Tal froze. That…was it an elven foci?

"I am here for the Anchor," the monster said. "The process of removing it begins now." Corypheus leaned down and extended his hand holding the crackling, glowing orb. Still Tal stood witless, entranced—until pain seared through his left palm. The mark wakened, crackling much as the orb did, but glowing green.

Tal gritted his teeth and locked his knees. Refusing to fall, he cradled his left hand with his right, shaking with pain. It felt as though someone had fused the bones of his hand to a steel chain and demanded he hold up the weight of a halla with it. His muscles, bones, tendons, and joints all screamed white hot. He didn't process Corypheus' words as he fought to remain upright, but the corpse-looking, red lyrium infested windbag kept yapping the whole time. He must just really like hearing the sound of his voice.

Finally the pain and pressure on his hand was too much for Tal to withstand. Screaming, he fell to his knees. His hands hit the snow and dirt. Through eyes streaming with tears, Tal saw the green of the mark's magic curling up through his arm. A sickly red energy coiled about his palm.

"Just fucking kill me already," Tal snarled through clenched teeth. "You cocksucking piece of darkspawn shit!"

As if his barrage of insults actually worked, Corypheus released his hold over the mark. The red magic twining over his palm eased, as did the pain. The green magic was slower to fade. Winded and stunned to still be alive, Tal lifted his head at the crunch of gravel and dirt in time to see the monster closing in on him. He yelped, trying to sit up and scrabble backward, but the thing was faster.

The Darkspawn lunged and grabbed Tal's left arm. Tal screamed, kicking weakly and then crying out with more pain as Corypheus nearly wrenched his shoulder from the socket. He went motionless to keep that from happening, gnashing his teeth and recoiling as Corypheus loomed closer, eyes narrowed to examine him.

"I once breached the Fade in the name of another, to serve the Old Gods of the Empire in person. I found only chaos and corruption. Dead whispers."

 _Your breath was probably what killed the Old Gods,_ Tal thought, fighting to breathe and his mind racing, trying to find an escape.

"For a thousand years I was confused," Corypheus said. "No more. I have gathered the will to return under no name but my own. To champion withered Tevinter and correct this blighted world."

Tal managed to focus past the pain just enough that he felt a spark leap into his right hand. _Yes!_ He tensed, struggling to swing at Corypheus to burn him, but the monster casually snatched his arm, stopping the attempt. The thing glared at him and said, "Beg that I succeed, for I have seen the throne of the gods and it was empty."

And then Corypheus tossed him away, as if to remind Tal how puny and insignificant he was. The world spun dizzyingly as Tal heard the dragon make a reptilian gurgle that could have been laughter. Then he landed hard, bouncing on rough, cold wood. He gasped, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath and recover.

"The Anchor is permanent," Corypheus said, whining. He walked closer and the dragon mirrored him, hissing through lipless jaws. "So be it then. I will start again. Find another way to give this world the nation and god it requires."

"Good luck with that," Tal muttered and coughed, still winded. As he raised his head and got his bearings, Tal realized he was sitting on the small wooden platform beside the trebuchet's crank handle. Close enough he might be able to lurch for it and get it before Corypheus could react…

A streak of light drew his eyes then—up, behind and far beyond Corypheus. It was…a fiery arrow. His heart fluttered with dull realization. The Inquisition was safe. Rosa was safe. Eliana was safe. Solas was safe.

But Dorian…

His eyes flew to the spot near the picket fence and saw the Tevinter mage halfway upright, but slouched pathetically. It was as if someone had propped him up, not as though Dorian managed to pull himself into that position. _What in the void…?_

"And you," Corypheus went on, as if coming to a decision aloud for himself more than for Tal. "I will not suffer even an unknowing rival. You must die."

Heart hammering, Tal's sharp eyes saw a footprint form in a dirty patch of snow about a meter away from Dorian's slumped form. Realization slammed into him, leaving him weak with the thrill of hope. He grinned and laughed breathlessly as he looked to Corypheus and the dragon again and gave them both the middle finger. "Go fuck yourself, buddy."

Jumping for the crank, Tal triggered it and the trebuchet creaked as the mechanisms holding it under load gave way. It jerked and clattered as the stone sailed away, straight for the snowy white peak of the mountain looming over Haven village. Corypheus and the dragon watched it, spellbound.

Tal didn't. Tossing a barrier over himself, he Fade-stepped to Dorian and knelt, hands digging frantically on the other man for purchase. "Work with me here, Dorian!" he begged. "Wake up, dammit!"

Then the dragon squealed with what sounded clearly like surprise and, simultaneously, the ground rumbled ominously. The air thrummed, as if with thunder. The avalanche had begun.

Grunting with effort and halfway dragging Dorian, Tal turned just in time to see the dragon stamping and snapping at a large black wolf that had appeared from nowhere. The wolf was nimble and fleet-footed, dodging as the enormous dragon swept a clawed foot at it.

Corypheus shouted something, surprised and enraged at this bizarre beast that had materialized to harass his dragon. He thrust out one enormous, elongated hand and tainted red magic shot out in a stream. It hit the wolf and bounced off a blue barrier.

"What is this?" Corypheus asked, snarling. "Be gone!" He hurled red fire balls at the wolf as it broke off, diving under the dragon—and vanished. The fireballs hit the dirt, crackling and then spluttering into harmless sparks.

Corypheus hurried toward the dragon, heedless now of Tal.

That was just as well. Tal preferred the thought of dying somewhere out of sight of this monster. The last thing he wanted was for his soul to take nightmares of Corypheus and his tainted dragon into the Beyond. He clung tightly to Dorian and breathed hard, moving as fast as he could away from the trebuchet, the mountain, and Corypheus.

As the rumbling grew stronger, making Tal stumble, he spotted a shamble of boards over what looked like a sort of mine shaft. A tunnel? Did it connect to the one the Inquisition used to sneak out of Haven? Straining against the large, heavy load of Dorian's unconscious body, Tal shambled as fast as he could for it—but already he could feel the wind of the avalanche, icy cold and wet, barreling down on him.

And then a black shape rushed up to his side, pushing under him. A voice spoke in his head— _Solas'_ voice. _Hold onto me._

Tal didn't have time to gasp or question this. He grabbed the wolf's thick black fur with his free hand and pulled Dorian tighter against himself. The he made the mistake of looking toward Haven, only to feel his bowels become liquid at the wall of white rushing for them.

"Go! Go! Go!"

The wolf lunged forward, powerful muscles bunching beneath Tal's hand. Its padded feet kicked up dirt and snow like a halla, racing the wind. The wooden planks of the small construction hole rushed toward them and Tal's harsh breaths became laughter. _Holy fucking shit,_ he thought. _I'm going to live!_

But then something cold and solid hit Tal from behind. It was crushing, blinding him with white. His next breath was ice. He gagged and coughed. He felt the wolf staggering, overwhelmed. The fur disappeared and became coarse fabric that he felt tearing under the assault. Dorian's weight almost slipped from his arm as he scrambled to hold on.

Then they tumbled forward as the ground vanished, pouring into the darkness. Snow rushed in after them. Tal had only a moment of panic and despair that maybe he wasn't going to live after all—but then the icy floor smashed into him.

* * *

 **Next Chapter**

"Uh," Tal said and lifted his hands, palms out, as if to show he was unarmed. "I swear on my mother's life that I _never_ worshipped the _shemlen_ god or their prophetess." He flashed a trembling grin, shivering violently. "Please don't kill me. You were seriously always my favorite Creator. _Fen'Harel enaste."_

* * *

I always like to break canon for some of these main story quests. In RST I had Solas stay with and save Rosa when she faces Cory. Now Tal faces Cory mostly alone and is desperate to save Dorian. And who wouldn't be? Everyone loves Dorian! And of course, Solas helps too.

Cookie, thank you for reviewing as always! I haven't played the Dorian romance all the way through myself, but when I googled it to get familiar with it...OMG it is so sweet. I have a male Lavellan romancing Dorian, but I like never play him, which of course makes it hard to progress the romance!

Until next time, yo!


	17. In Your Heart Pt 3: Renewal & Redemption

**Note: This chapter is NSFW!**

* * *

 **Seventeen**

In Your Heart Part 3: Renewal and Redemption

* * *

Solas' head throbbed in time with his heartbeat, but he didn't stop walking. An unconscious Dorian and Tal were both astride his back. He couldn't delay very long or they would freeze. His wolf form did not create an excessive amount of body heat. Snow stuck to his guard hairs, his whiskers. It also clung to his passengers.

He must reach the Inquisition quickly, but he wasn't certain how much longer he could maintain the wolf shape.

The wind didn't touch him through the wolf's thick pelt, which was fortunate as he didn't have any spare mana at all to burn for heat. The shape-shifting spell was so mana-costly it left him always at the edge of burnout.

His muscles ached. Every step hurt. His skin burned. His body suffered as his mana core ached.

He'd already lost control of the shape once before, when the three of them fell into the tunnel. They lay there, half buried in snow, for perhaps an hour before Solas woke. He found Dorian near death from cold and Tal with a goose egg sized lump on his head. It didn't seem to be all that serious, but almost an hour of walking and the young elf had not yet wakened.

Solas had used powerful healing spells on both men to restore them as much as he could for the journey ahead, but each powerful spell left him reeling. When the wolf shape eventually failed he would be strung out and pathetic. He'd consumed lyrium before the battle, but it could only do so much.

And it was wearing off.

 _Fenedhis!_ Damn himself for ever putting up the Veil! An _Evanuris_ should never want for mana!

His sensitive canine nose picked out embers and wood smoke carried on the harsh wind. It offered just enough hope to keep him going. He trudged on, weary but determined. The Dread Wolf had not survived Elvhenan's civil war, the erection of the Veil, and millennia asleep just to die on this desolate mountainside of cold.

As he entered the low-point between two jagged peaks, the snow deepened. Soon Solas waded through drifts up to his haunches. He snuffled to clear snow out of his face every few meters. When his throat was dry he snapped irritably at the drifts, melting the snow and swallowing it down. His teeth soon hurt from the cold, but he kept doing it. The chill helped distract him from the burning pain of his core that pulsed through his blood.

That was about when he heard Tal groan and felt the youth stir on his back. _"Fuck you, Sarhen,"_ Tal mumbled in elven as he sat up, as though riding a horse. "Whoa…what the…?"

Solas wanted to use a little stray mana to project a thought at Tal to communicate, but he had nothing to spare. He turned his head slightly to try and make eye contact with his passenger only to feel him tense with fear. Tal gawked at him, brown eyes wide and skin paler than usual with the deep chill of the Frostbacks setting in.

"Uh," Tal said and lifted his hands, palms out, as if to show he was unarmed. "I swear on my mother's life that I _never_ worshipped the _shemlen_ god or their prophetess." He flashed a trembling grin, shivering violently. "Please don't kill me. You were seriously always my favorite Creator. _Fen'Harel enaste."_

Solas rolled his eyes and focused on walking again, heading uphill. Tal soon gripped his fur once more, apparently relaxing. "Um," he said, struggling to speak around his shivering. "Where are we going?"

Of course Solas gave no answer. Did Tal remember where they were at all? Had the bump on his head left him senseless? Did he recognize Dorian? Did he recall the attack on Haven? Unfortunately Solas had no way to discern the answers to any of these questions while in wolf shape.

"Oh," Tal said then, twisting about on Solas' back. "Who…wait…" He apparently just noticed Dorian and that seemed to jog his memory as an instant later he gasped. "Dorian! Dorian!"

While Tal was distracted with checking up on the Tevinter mage, Solas pressed on. At the crest of the hill he saw a pass and a steep path downhill. He stopped in place, sniffing for a moment as his eyes, more light-sensitive but color-muted when compared to his normal vision, made out a flicker of fire against a cliff face in the distance. He let out a long breath of relief as he heard human voices and shouts.

They'd been spotted.

At long last he could let go.

Solas let the wolf shape fade and immediately collapsed into the snow under the weight of his passengers. He groaned, shivering fiercely now as he felt the cold all in a rush for the first time. Tal yelped and rolled off to one side, sending snow fluttering away. Dorian impacted Solas, knocking the air from his lungs in a whoosh.

"What just happened?" Tal asked, scrambling back toward him. "Wait… _Solas?"_ he asked, aghast. "You were…a wolf? Was I dreaming? Just now?"

Solas couldn't find the focus or the strength to answer right now. He concentrated within, waiting to feel his mana core. Had he run himself ragged again? Would he be reduced once more to a weak shadow of himself, like the virtually Tranquil man he'd been in the Hasmal Circle?

But then, through the haze of burning pain in his blood, Solas felt the first little bubble of rejuvenating mana. If he'd had the breath and the strength, he would have laughed for joy. Tal spoke again, ragged with his shivering, but Solas didn't process it.

Time skipped then, though he didn't recall losing consciousness. Somehow Inquisition soldiers and scouts were around them, hauling them up. Laughter rang out over the howl of the wind through the Frostbacks. Cheers and praises to the Maker and Andraste echoed in his ears. He fought waves of vertigo as the humans dragged him toward their campfires and hastily pitched tents. The heat of the fire ironically made him hurt more as it brought feeling back to his hands, feet, and face.

"It's a miracle!" Cassandra shouted as she raced to meet with them from another fire. "Maker, thank you!"

It had nothing to do with her Maker or any divine power, he thought bitterly. He wiped those thoughts away when he spotted someone else approaching behind the Seeker. It was Rosa, looking sickly and pale, distraught—until her eyes landed on them. Then her mouth fell open and her eyes flooded with tears as she trotted toward them.

" _Da'isamalin!_ Solas!"

"Rosa!" Tal said, springing easily to his feet and colliding with her in an embrace. Rosa started sobbing into his chest, her hands shaking where she wrapped them around her brother's shoulders. "Shhh," Tal cooed at her. "I'm all right. You're not dreaming. I swear."

Solas started trying to rise to join them, but his thighs betrayed him. Trembling with weakness from the burnout, he fell back onto his rump beside the fire. Huffing with irritation, he contented himself with gazing across the fire to where a healer was examining Dorian. It was somewhat concerning that the Tevinter mage hadn't woken yet, but he was already getting some color back from being near the fire. Solas expected he would recover quickly now with heat and care.

"Solas," came a breathy voice above him.

Glancing up and to his other side, he smiled as he saw Rosa. She didn't return it and tears streamed down her cheeks, glittering wet in the light from the fire—but there was no mistaking the overwhelming gratitude in her eyes. And something else, too. Something that stirred his heart into feeling something other than the constant burning ache of his overworked mana core. His stomach fluttered with excitement and the heat of the fire began to feel more like the first blush of desire. A pleasure-pain.

Then she dropped next to him and reached out, pulling him to her in an embrace. She was warmer than the fire to Solas, setting his heart hammering and his body sweating, despite the fact he was surely still trying to recover from hypothermia on top of the mana burnout. Her voice choked out a whisper in his ear. "Thank you. _Thank you so much."_

He brought his arms up to return her embrace, but was unable to keep them from shaking violently. Rosa pulled back from him, cupping his cheeks with her hands and staring at him with tears glistening in her violet eyes. "Solas?" she asked. "Are you hurt?"

"No," he told her, struggling to keep the warble out of his voice. "Merely chilled." He smirked humorlessly. "And I expended far too much mana."

She drew in a breath and gripped his hands, bringing them to her neck. "Draw from me, then." Pressing her face so close to his that their noses touched, Solas found himself shivering for more reasons than just cold and burnout. They'd done this before, in Hasmal. It was an intimate experience, a sign of ultimate trust—especially now that she knew _what_ he truly was. If she was considering that at all, anyway.

"I will recover," he said, resisting. But the huskiness in his voice was obvious, even to him. The last time they had done this was after they'd just become lovers. Thinking of that now made his cheeks burn, affecting him even over the pain wracking him.

"Do you need some lyrium?" Tal asked, his voice scratchy from just a few feet away on Solas' right. Another reminder that they were far from alone.

"No," Solas said and gently started to push Rosa away. "I will—"

"Do you want to be weak as a kitten again?" Rosa snapped, grabbing his hand and getting to her feet. She grunted as she pulled on him, trying to force him to stand. Her grip was strong, as were her arms.

Solas gave in without much of a fight, letting her heft him up and then partly support him. Even if he'd wanted to resist, everything _ached._ "Come on, flat-ear," she said, wrapping his arm over her shoulders for support and trudging away from the fire.

Through the cloud of pain still afflicting him, Solas realized she wasn't wearing Eliana's sling and there was no sign of the baby. Worry tightened his chest. "Where is Eliana?"

"Sleeping," Rosa said, hiking his arm over her shoulders a bit more. She used her other hand to point toward a covered wagon off in the darkness, away from the fires. "I left her bundled up with the ambassador in the wagon. Poor thing's exhausted."

He realized, dimly, that Rosa wasn't leading him toward the supply wagon. Instead she angled toward the tents the Inquisition refugees had pitched around several hastily constructed hearths. As she ducked inside it with him, Solas vaguely wondered whose tent this was supposed to be—but then he saw the halla fur over the sleeping roll, along with a familiar stave. This was Rosa's tent, apparently. She must have been preparing it while Eliana slept with her babysitter.

"Sit," she ordered as she deposited him on the bedroll. Solas grunted as his rump impacted the halla fur, his head still throbbing and his blood burning in his veins. His mind was slow with pain and cold, but he knew Rosa had brought him here for privacy and that started up a mix of dread and excitement twisting his guts. They had been in the middle of a very intense conversation when Haven came under attack. Now that they had all unexpectedly survived it, he expected she'd have a chance to react more fully.

And he might have to tell her more. In some ways, the revelation of his Evanuris alter ego was actually the _least_ terrible of his secrets. Next he'd have to tell her that he created the Veil, destroyed the People, robbed them of immortality, and now wished to destroy this present world to correct those mistakes.

Oh, and there was the little matter of confessing he killed her father.

But before he could give any further consideration to those dark thoughts, Rosa was in his lap. Her palms were on his cheeks, scaldingly hot. One hand slid around to the back of his head, pulling his forehead to meet hers. She was breathing quickly, far faster than the situation warranted.

 _Oh…!_

"Is this better?" she asked, barely above a whisper. Her words puffed air against his lips. When he didn't answer immediately, she said, "Draw from me."

She had guessed why he hesitated earlier and removed the problem. Sharing mana directly between mages was something he'd done very rarely. And with Rosa…well, he knew it was far too sensual an experience to put on display for the others. But here, in the relatively private tent…

He shut his eyes and reached with his inner senses, as if connecting to the Fade. He found Rosa easily, as bright as a beacon before him, and supped on her mana as gently as his empty, hungry core could. Now the heat that passed through him was pleasurable as her mana spilled into him. He shuddered, hugging her closer with greedy hands even as he tried to restrain himself from overdrawing. Her hands on his shoulders flexed, gripping tightly. Yet she lasted another few moments, yielding a surprisingly large pool of mana to replenish him.

When she let out a little gasp of something like pain, Solas immediately broke contact. Her face was blurry in his gaze, but he could see the black of her pupils, blown wide. Lips parted, she breathed too fast still and, as clearly as though they were in the Fade sharing a dream, Solas felt her desire. Her intent. Her joy and relief.

Her _love._

Their lips crashed together. Solas didn't know who kissed who, nor did he care. His head spun with exhilaration, disbelief, and relief, as sharp as what he'd felt from Rosa through the mana she gifted him. He'd feared revealing even this fraction of the truth would send her running from him, unable to comprehend that her former lover, the man who'd fathered her child, was also the greatest villain who ever lived according to Dalish legend. To discover that he was wrong in a huge way left him reeling but overjoyed.

A niggling voice warned that he should turn her away now. His relief was premature. Rosa didn't know the full truth. In fact, she knew only a tiny bit of it. What would she think when she learned it all? What if she despised him then? What if she regretted this?

But then her tongue swept into his mouth, tasting him deeply, and her hands dug under his tunic at the waist. Her warm touch, and the taste of her sweet mouth, drove all rational thought and caution aside. Responding in kind, Solas slipped a hand up her side, between her shirt and her skin. He stroked his blunted fingernails along the curve of her waist and over each rounded rib as they flexed with her breathing. He felt her skin dimple with gooseflesh and her breath caught.

Breaking the increasingly sloppy kiss, Solas nibbled at her jaw and then brushed his lips along her neck. Rosa made a strangled noise of appreciation and then leaned into him. Solas fell back onto the halla fur covering her bedroll, gazing up at her dizzily with disbelief.

How many nights after he left her in the Free Marches had he found himself tormented by desire demons? Any idle moment left him vulnerable to fantasy, grief, guilt, and shame. He'd felt her call to him in the Fade countless times and had to waken himself rather than risk giving into temptation.

Now he knew how wrong he was to resist. If he had only reconnected with her sooner he might have avoided the initial tension and difficulty of establishing himself as Eliana's father, and Rosa's proper partner. He would have been at her side when Eliana was born, helping care for her from the very start. He could have prevented Tal going to the Conclave, saving the youth from the trauma and daunting responsibility of being the so-called Herald of Andraste…

Then his thoughts flitted away again, narrowing down to raw sensation as one of Rosa's hands went to the laces on his breeches. Simultaneously, she leaned down and kissed him again. Hungry.

He surged forward to meet her, his own arms and hands roving over her. He'd longed to touch her again like this for weeks—for more than a _year,_ really. His palm found her breast, caressing, brushing teasingly over the erect nipple. Rosa's free hand, the one not currently tangled in his breech lacings, caught his wrist under her shirt and pushed it down to her ribcage.

Breaking the kiss, she let out a breathy laugh. "Careful," she said, husky with arousal. "Unless you want a milk bath."

He blushed immediately, baffled and embarrassed at this uneducated blunder. He had never considered how _that_ would affect intimacy…and had never bedded a nursing mother at all. Mouth ajar, he struggled to find some _thing_ to say, but Rosa only grinned at him and closed the gap again. At the caress of her lips again and the grip of her hand over his hardened length, he swiftly forgot the exchange.

Moments later he managed to wriggle out of his breeches. Rosa did the same as the two of them twisted and struggled to maintain the ever-hungry kiss. Hands sweaty, breaths fast and heavy, they rolled and repositioned until Rosa was lying on her back, beneath him.

Solas broke their kiss to sit up partly and pull off his tunic. The chill of hypothermia from the long walk in the snow was a distant memory now. Rosa's mana had burned it away until all he could feel was his pounding heart and the thrill of the desire burning between them.

Rosa shifted when he sat up, moving with him to position herself in his lap. As he tossed his tunic away, Rosa pressed close, kissing his jaw. Humming with pleasure, Solas wrapped his arms around her, supporting her as she continued kissing and nibbling along his jaw toward his ear. When she reached it her teeth nipped at the lobe and then she spoke into his ear. _"Fenedhis_ , I missed this. Missed _you."_

He couldn't hold back the little noise of appreciation that slipped from his throat, or the shudder of pleasure at hearing that. He nuzzled closer to her, lips finding her ear to whisper in turn. _"Ar lath ma."_ He caressed up her back. _"Vhenan."_

He'd let slip the endearment earlier in the night, but during the midst of the attack on Haven it hadn't carried the weight he intended. Now she withdrew enough to stare at him, a tender smile curling her lips, plump from aggressive kissing. Her hands went to his face, cupping his cheeks and jaw. She tipped his chin up and kissed him again.

With his arousal trapped between them, hot as a brand, Solas shut his eyes and tried to quash the fierce, selfish drive to chase his own pleasure. But, as he'd discovered in the Hasmal Circle as their romance first budded, his mortal body lacked for patience and self-control at times. He wanted to lower her to the bedroll and pleasure her with his mouth and his magic, but he'd been celibate too long to resist it when Rosa lifted her hips and took him inside her.

He cried out, gasping at the intense heat of her over his length. Rosa answered him with a soft moan, grasping his shoulders as she rocked her hips in a slow rhythm. Shuddering, Solas pulled her closer, resting his lips at the soft skin of her neck and closing his eyes to try and hold himself back. It had been far, far too long. He wanted to savor the moment, hold onto it and make it last.

But his body was selfish and desperate. The heat of pleasure grew as Rosa moved over him, picking up speed. Muscles played over his length as she drew up and down over him, seemingly heedless of how close he was to losing control. His breathing rushed faster and faster, but it was a match for hers.

Soon the both of them were moaning, grunting with effort. Rosa worked her hips, alternatively grinding and then pumping. He arched to meet her, thrusting and thoughtless as everything thrummed with the building pleasure until—

He climaxed with a strangled cry, bliss pulsing through him as he emptied himself into her. Over the sound and ecstasy of his own orgasm he heard and felt Rosa finishing as well. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders, her body trembling in time with muscle contractions he could feel over his length.

As his own pleasure slowly subsided, Solas nuzzled in to her neck where it met with her shoulders, breath puffing hard. His heart hammered in his chest, full to bursting. He did not deserve this wonderful woman. He did not deserve this reconciliation.

But he would embrace it and fight to keep it. He could only hope that when she knew everything she would still feel the same.

* * *

Panting and sticky with sweat, Rosa tucked herself in tight along Solas' body. Tears still pricked her eyes when she recalled how this night began, how close she was to losing both Solas and Tal. Seemingly by a miracle, she had them both back.

And she was certain she had Solas to thank for it. Though no one told her what had happened, she knew in her bones that without Solas' aid tonight the Inquisition would no longer have its Herald. But, far more importantly for Rosa, she would no longer have a little brother. Even considering that for a moment made her heart ache with sharp pain and her throat threaten to close.

Feeling Solas stir, Rosa sat up partway and maneuvered to stare down at him. She could feel her smile trembling as his blue eyes, warm and soft with tenderness, locked with her. "Thank you," she blurted again, her voice rasping and throaty. "For saving Tal."

His smile was as soft and tender as his eyes. He lifted one hand and cupped her cheek, brushing away a tear she hadn't realized she shed. "You do not owe me any thanks," he said and then murmured, _"Vhenan."_

As she leaned into his touch, eyes drifting shut to relish this intimate moment, she heard Solas let out a small sigh. "There…is much yet I should tell you," he revealed, the words strained. "I fear, after you hear it, you may…"

Opening her eyes, Rosa grasped his hand on her cheek. "Whatever terrible things you haven't revealed yet, I don't care." Pulling his hand back from her cheek, Rosa nuzzled his palm and kissed it. "Who you were before doesn't matter." She felt the truth of that harden inside her chest. She hadn't yet come to grips with what he told her just before the attack on Haven. It was almost impossible to see anyone but _Solas_ when she looked at him, but it _did_ explain a few things.

The orb, for example.

She put that out of her mind.

A look of torment crossed Solas' face. "I have wronged you…and all the People. If you knew—"

"It's in the past," Rosa interrupted him softly. She didn't want to hear anything awful right now. She didn't want to face whatever dark secrets and crimes lay in his deep past. Right now she just wanted to revel in the simple, wondrous fact that her brother and her lover yet lived.

"I wish that were true," Solas said, still wearing the look of anguish.

"Right now it is," Rosa insisted and ducked down to kiss him. When she broke it, breathing fast again, she said, "Right now, I only care that you are _Solas._ You saved my brother. You're here to help me raise Elia, keep her safe. And…" She swallowed and forced herself to go on, to open fully to him. "I love you. I never stopped loving you…"

He swallowed, throat bobbing as he grappled with his emotions. His blue eyes were so dark they looked black, glinting in the lowlight of the tent. "I should never have left you in the Free Marches," he whispered. "I am undeserving of your devotion."

She pressed close, brushing her nose to his, speaking against his lips. "You can make it up to me," she murmured. "By staying at my side and being Elia's _babae."_

He shuddered, clearly struggling to maintain composure. "There is nothing I would rather do." His voice cracked as he said, _"Vhenan."_

Rosa grinned and, sucking in a heavy breath, surged close to capture his lips in another deep, passionate kiss. After a moment she drew back and spoke the same endearment against his skin. _"Vhenan."_

And then there were no more words as the ardor between them swelled once more.

* * *

"I didn't believe in you before," came the breathy voice from the red mist surrounding Tal on all sides. "I'm so sorry I stood against you, Herald."

Frowning, Tal struggled to place the voice. It was male, weak as though sick or dying, and carried a faint accent that might be Ferelden or Free Marches. And _so_ familiar…

He saw a flash of memory in his mind's eye. A red templar's sword upraised against defenseless Haven residents who cowered and screamed. He felt his booted feet crunch over dirt and snow as he rushed in to shield them, arms outstretched to stop the blade. He saw it slice down and tried to dodge even as he used his own body to shelter the noncombatants. He felt the blow strike him, but there was no pain.

 _Andraste be praised!_

The Templar snarled at him, ugly and inhuman through the red lyrium poisoning. He jerked up, and this time Tal _did_ feel the sword. It was cold and robbed him of breath. He saw red blood—his blood—splatter onto the trampled snow below. He gritted his teeth, trying to see behind him. Had the two he'd tried to protect fled?

 _Please, Maker, let them be safe!_

He saw the pair rushing toward the Chantry. They would make it, even though he would not. That was fine. It was enough.

His legs were heavy and weak. He felt his muscles giving out. The red Templar snarled and ripped his blade back, sending more blood dribbling to the snow. He would make the death strike now, and that would end the pain. Tal was ready for it.

But then, suddenly, a green streak appeared behind the red Templar. It lashed out with a dagger, slicing across the poisoned warrior's throat. The red Templar gurgled, gasping as he dropped his sword and gripped his throat. He staggered and fell, choking.

A pale boy with blond hair was at Tal's side then, taking his weight. "Let me help you," he said in a soft voice. "That was very brave. They won't forget what you did for them."

"Yes," the weak voice said. It wasn't Tal's voice.

Tal blinked as the memory vanished.

Touching his midsection with shaking hands, Tal found he was whole. Yet he'd felt the templar's blade cut deep into his guts. His stomach roiled as he swallowed his gorge and tried to think. He recalled the blond boy from outside Haven, but he also had shadowy memories of seeing him in a different time and place. A dark future that he couldn't really remember but desperately wished he did.

"What is this?" Tal asked, scowling at the red mist.

This…this place….it felt like a dream, but there was something _off_ about it. Tal wasn't a Dreamer mage like his sister, but he'd had enough experience and training that he could be a lucid dreamer to a certain extent. He knew better than to fall for most demons' tricks, for one thing. And he had learned what the Fade _felt_ like. He'd never be able to shape it the way Rosa and Solas and _lenalin_ could, but he generally knew when he was dreaming.

This was… _kind_ of a dream? But like nothing he'd experienced before. Was this the work of a strange kind of demon, perhaps?

An older human man stepped out of the red mist. He was translucent, but well-defined. He wore Chantry robes that had been cut and stained with blood. Tal recognized him with a start. "Chancellor Roderick?"

"Yes," the man said, his hooded head bowed. "I'm sorry I didn't believe in you before. Maker forgive me." He wrung his hands in front of him. "I…I can't remember, Herald. Did I show them the path? Did our people escape Haven?" He lifted his head and tears gleamed in his dark eyes.

A wave of grief and regret and shame smacked into Tal. He cringed back, breathing hard to get through the confusing onslaught. Roderick watched him with the same aggrieved expression, failing to notice Tal's distress.

He remembered Chancellor Roderick explaining the pilgrim's path that might offer a chance for the Inquisition to flee Haven, right under the Elder One's nose. He also remembered Cole under the Chantry man's arm, supporting him, saying he was going to die. The phantom memory of the cold Templar blade stabbing into him made Tal shudder anew even as his eyes widened with realization. The memory he'd relived was Roderick's.

"Herald?" Roderick asked, sounding tired. "Please…forgive me."

The same wave of emotions crushed Tal all over again. His eyes stung and his heart hammered. He didn't remember much after arriving with Solas and Dorian to the ramshackle Inquisition camp in the freezing Frostbacks. He was just exhausted and cold, mainly. But he did recall moving with Dorian to a makeshift infirmary and seeing the dead and dying laid out in cots around him.

Roderick was one of them. He was dying at least, if he wasn't already dead.

This was…a spirit channeling him? Or was it Roderick's soul?

 _Lethanavir._ Kin of the inevitable way. Falon'Din. Friend of the dead.

Solas had taught him a simple cantrip that provided a few hours of relief from "the voices of the dead" whenever he was having an episode. He had yet to understand exactly what those _episodes_ were and what triggered them, but after returning to Haven Tal hadn't needed it. Sometimes, in the Chantry, he did hear unsettling whispers. But it wasn't enough to make him _sure_ he needed to use the cantrip. It might just be the whisper of spirits where the Veil was thinnest around Haven. Or…something. He knew he was _very_ sick in the dark future, but other than his sore ribs and abs—recuperated now—he had little proof beyond Dorian and Solas' explanations of what caused it. And nothing since then left him with evidence that it was "the voices of the dead" that had so sickened him.

Solas had frustratingly little concrete information he could provide regarding this strange talent. Furthermore, he seemed to _despise_ it, though _why_ that was the case remained unclear to Tal. But now….

Tal's skin prickled with a mixture of dread and awe.

"Chancellor Roderick?" he asked, though he'd long since recognized the man. "I'm…uh, a little confused…"

Roderick's head tilted slightly, as if Tal's bemusement had in turn confused him. "Did I show them the path? Did our people escape Haven?"

The memories were hazy to Tal, but he knew the Inquisition was safe. He nodded vigorously. "Yeah. You did it. The Inquisition escaped Haven because of you."

Roderick's shoulders fell and his eyes closed. He let out a shuddering breath and relief hit Tal in a wave, carried by this strange dream straight from Roderick to Tal. "Thank you, Herald." After a moment he looked up and said, "I know I'm…dead. I…never thought I'd have the chance to truly make a noble end. Something that would make Andraste proud." He let out a weak laugh. "I suppose I'm very lucky after all?"

Tal was silent, dumbfounded for a moment. Then, slowly, he nodded. The gravity and solemnity of the emotion in the Dreaming between them sank into Tal like water into a sponge, washing away his confusion and apprehension of whatever this was. If this truly was Roderick's soul, Tal would give him whatever peace he could.

"You saved hundreds of people," Tal told him. "Including me. I followed the path, too."

Roderick's smile was sad but genuine. "Good. I'm glad, Herald." He seemed to draw in and then let out a deep breath. "I'm ready now to go to the Maker's side."

Something in his gaze on Tal was expectant.

And that was when Tal realized he could _feel_ Roderick. He'd learned to _feel_ Dreamers and other sleepers with help from his father and Rosa, to better protect himself from demon manipulation and other dangers of the Fade. But this wasn't like a Dreamer or a sleeper. It was something else, something new. Dreamers felt heavy in his awareness, while sleepers were just faint presences. Roderick was almost physical to him, as though Tal had an invisible third hand clasping the man in an unshakeable grip.

Rosa had sometimes described holding onto the Fade in a similar way, or reaching through it with her will to grab a person and summon them to her.

 _I am the one who called Roderick here,_ he realized. It wasn't conscious, of course. Just as most sleepers shaped the Fade unknowingly, Tal had apparently done the same now— _but with a soul._

Solas had said the study of necromancy might help Tal understand the strange inheritance from Falon'Din. Now Tal saw how disturbingly true that suggestion was. He had drawn Roderick here, to him, like the proverbial moth to flame. And, just like the flame, he hadn't done it purposefully. It happened just because of _who and what_ he was.

 _Lethanavir._

What could he do with a soul? What great and _terrible_ power might he unleash—unknowingly or not?

Horror made Tal's stomach twist again. He gulped and frowned, focusing on tamping down the emotion. Roderick watched him, silent and at peace. Patient and trusting.

Suddenly Tal thought he understood why Solas had reacted with disdain to this talent. It was undoubtedly awful if misused.

Concentrating, Tal imagined that third hand releasing Roderick. "Go," he said, struggling to sound gentle and compassionate instead of scared shitless. "Go and be with the Maker and know peace."

Tal felt that invisible hold loosen and then snap taut once more. His mana core burbled, reacting to his anxiety. Blessedly, Roderick seemed unaffected—though he was definitely still here. Tal's mind raced as he tried to find this new power and take control of it. This must be very much like magic and he was brand new to it all. Sometimes it was easier to summon fire than it was to snuff it out. Holding souls must be similar. He had only to concentrate and _let go._

Now Roderick did seem to sense his difficulty. But instead of reacting with doubt or fear, the old man merely smiled warmly. "It's all right, Herald. I am ready to join Andraste at the Maker's side." He shut his eyes and then began to repeat the Chant.

"Though all before me is shadow,  
Yet shall the Maker be my guide.  
I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond.  
For there is no darkness in the Maker's Light  
And nothing that He has wrought shall be lost."

Tal breathed in several times, focusing on Roderick's voice and the Chant itself. Slowly, softly, he felt something ease inside him, letting go. Roderick's form faded right as the chant ceased, leaving Tal alone in the red mist.

"And nothing that He has wrought shall be lost," Tal repeated. And then, with shaking hands, he covered his face and let the fear of what he'd just felt and seen—with all its terrifying implications—absorb him.

What _was_ he? What was this power?

Whatever it was, Tal didn't want it.

* * *

The Inquisition didn't know where to go or what to do. For a day they stayed in the mountain pass, huddled against the cold as various leaders bickered over their next course of action. Tal wasn't part of their deliberations. He stayed in the makeshift infirmary, sleeping fitfully through the day and into the evening.

Dorian was nearby, snoring as he recovered from a nasty concussion. Tal had made sure that everyone knew Dorian received that concussion by shielding him from attack. He wanted Dorian to wake up more hero than pariah for once. Let no one call him "that Tevinter Magister" anymore. Let him be "the brave mage who saved the Herald."

Of course, everyone also knew there was a _second_ mage who had earned that title—arguably more so than Dorian. While Dorian had clearly suffered an injury in the attack and earned Tal's praise as a hero, everyone in the camp had _seen_ Solas arrive with both the Herald and the Tevinter just in time to collapse from cold and exhaustion. But unlike Dorian and Tal, Solas had disappeared to reunite with Rosa and Eliana. Everyone seemed content to let the little family unit rest and recuperate in solitude.

Rosa had acted rather strangely during the battle and Tal had some rather confusing cold-muddled memories of Solas shape-shifting. He knew he'd need to discuss it with them and figure out what he'd missed, but right now all he felt was weary and troubled. Mother Giselle tried to offer him comfort, reciting the Chant or trying to get him to open up about his feelings. Tal rebuffed her attempts, his mind too full of fears the Chantry Mother would never understand.

But of course, Tal had to talk when, that evening, Cassandra and Leliana came to debrief him. They wanted to know about the Elder One—who he was, what he wanted, and how all that should affect their next move. And so Tal reluctantly told them everything he could, thoroughly shocking them and throwing their plans for retreat even more into dismay. They didn't know how to possibly elude a Darkspawn Magister, who seemed like an evil god to them as a defiler of the Golden City and original spreader of Blight.

Tal didn't know how to comfort them—or even if there was any comfort to give. Eventually the right and left hands of the long dead Divine departed to go plan with the other surviving leaders. Tal saw their glances at him, silently inviting him to join. He ignored it, unwilling to leap back into their midst so soon when he felt like such a fraud.

And then, as if he didn't have enough to fear right now with a Darkspawn Magister out to kill him, there was the annoying reality that Tal was afraid of himself. Afraid of sleeping, of dreaming. Afraid of the terrible power that had awoken in his blood. Afraid of what that power might do to him over time.

 _Lethanavir._

"It's all right to be afraid," a soft voice said from his bedside. Tal turned his head and saw the strange blond young man from Haven who'd helped Roderick and warned them of the advancing red Templars.

Tal grunted. "You again." He dug around his mind and at last landed on this weird youth's name. Cole.

Cole's blue eyes were guileless and sad. "Yes. You…know me from somewhere…some _when_ else."

"Yep," Tal agreed, frowning as he quickly searched around them to see if anyone would overhear their conversation. Fortunately they were alone, except for a sleeping Dorian. "But you don't know me?"

"No," Cole said, still sounding sad. "I'm sorry. I want to help, but—"

"It's okay," Tal said, waving absently at him. "I'm not a genius like Solas, but even I know it's not fair of me to expect you to be able to remember shit that hasn't happened to you." He sat up on his cot with a groan, rubbing his face for a moment before looking to his left to where Dorian slept.

"He's going to wake up soon," Cole said, brightly.

"Good," Tal said. Other than missing Dorian's company and his sharp wit, Tal planned to quickly ask him about necromancy. He needed to compare what Dorian could do with what little he knew of Lethanavir's inheritance. His gut told him they'd be very different things, but there might be enough overlap to calm his nerves. It was entirely possible to practice necromancy and remain a good, decent person. Dorian was an excellent example of that.

"Having power doesn't make you a bad person," Cole said gently.

Tal frowned and looked at Cole, thinking hard. He remembered Cole talking to him in the Chantry, touching his shoulder. The touch did something to him, affected him. Eased his terror. In that brief instant Tal had come away knowing Cole wasn't just a strange boy. He was a spirit somehow given flesh. Now, Cole was demonstrating that same power again by reading his mind. It was mildly unnerving, but Tal quashed that response. Cole's mind reading was harmless and perfectly normal for a spirit.

Cole fidgeted beside him, looking down at his hands. "I used to kill people. I thought I was helping them and I thought I _had_ to do it. I didn't understand." His blue eyes when he looked up again had a touch of wild desperation. "If it happens again, if I do that again—you have to kill me. I don't want to be a demon."

Tal grimaced. Maybe Cole wasn't as harmless as he first thought. Still, he forced himself to nod. "Got ya. Don't worry about it. If you act out like that we'll put you down."

"Good," Cole said, sounding relieved. "I'm glad. I don't want to be like that again."

"Yeah," Tal agreed. "Let's not think about that. I've got enough to worry about without adding an unstable spirit to the mix." He stopped then and chuckled dryly. "I mean, _another_ unstable spirit. I was just starting to enjoy life without Rogathe—whatever happened to the old bastard."

Cole stared at him, blank and uncomprehending.

"Never mind," Tal said, waving a hand at Cole dismissively. "You didn't know him." He let out a sigh and then corrected himself. "It. You didn't know it."

Cole continued to stare at him, eyes glazed. Tal thought the spirit boy had turned completely inward and wasn't listening at all, but then he spoke. "Bravery. You are a coward, _da'len._ Turn back. Face the threat. You _must_ do what is right and what is brave!"

For an instant Tal flashed back to the aftermath of the Conclave, when Cassandra marched him up as a prisoner to the demon-infested ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Shortly after meeting Chancellor Roderick for the first time Tal had realized with utter horror that Rogathe had possessed him somehow between the explosion and when he woke up in Haven as the sole survivor. Rogathe was always going on about doing the right thing and calling Tal a coward when he refused to act in a way the spirit deemed acceptable. Cole was quoting Rogathe now.

He nodded. "Yeah, that was Rogathe." He blew out a breath. "But it's gone now. Disappeared while I was in the dark future at Redcliffe, somehow. My memories buggered off with it, too."

Cole's brow furrowed, as though straining with effort or pain. "It won't go back with you," Cole said, whispering. "In will be gone forever, stuck here in this time, this world." Cole blinked and seemed to shake his head. His expression turned sheepish and apologetic. "I'm sorry. I can't see anything else."

Tal's skin prickled with déjà vu. "What was that?" he asked in a gravelly croak.

But he thought he already knew.

"She took Bravery," Cole said. "In the other time. With the other me."

There was only one _she_ Tal could think of when it came to Rogathe: Rosa.

Tal's heart pounded hard in his throat. If Cole could glimpse even that small tidbit of memory, which was lost to Tal, then he might uncover everything with enough time. "You found something in my head," he said and reached out, grabbing the spirit boy's arm in his enthusiasm. "Mythal's tits! Don't apologize! That's wonderful!"

Cole had cringed from him at first, but now just stared at him, confused. "It is?"

"Yeah!" Tal exclaimed and let out a hoarse laugh. "Try digging around some more and if you find something I'll call you my new best friend!"

Cole brightened. "I had a friend once. It was nice."

Creators, that sounded sad. Tal gave Cole's arm a squeeze and a little shake. "Well, tell you what, even if you don't find anything—you can call me a friend."

"I'd like that," Cole said quietly.

Tal's grin was genuine and bright as he agreed. "Me too, buddy. Me too."

* * *

Endnote: I have a tiny little section written for next chapter, but I didn't think it warranted being a preview. I have had a lot of trouble writing since becoming pregnant. I don't know why. It's frustrating, like my drive to do it dried up. If you knew me, you'd know that's outright alarming. But I'm probbaly just not trying hard enough. Gotta double down! And of course the state of the world now doesn't help. Damn this frigging pandemic! I hope everyone reading is at home, safe and healthy!

One thing that's exciting with taking this story with Tal as Inky and being a major narrator is that I can explore his inheritance from Falon'Din. We don't see it much firsthand in RST. Here we can explore it thoroughly. I figure it's come on harder here than in RST, what with Tal being the possessed one, dealing with alcoholism caused by the clash of his personality with Rogathe's, and then the trauma of time traveling and mortal terror in Haven when Cory attacks. Tal's core character value isn't bravery like Rosa's is, and he wasn't raised properly for leadership. So he has a HUGE learning curve to overcome. But he's getting there.

Thank you to everyone who took time to review!

Haley, great to see a new reader and I'm thrilled you're enjoying! I enjoy putting Solas in situations that _could_ crossover into cheesy, but I don't think Solas has a cheesy bone in his elfy-elf body! LOL. He's the epitome of angst and he's right up there with classic characters like Oedpius. I love that sort of thing, must be the English major and mythology lover in me. If you haven't read my other DA:I stories, you might enjoy those too. And, I'm proud to say, they're all complete!

Dirthara-ma: Still love your name! So glad you like Tal! He is indeed a chaotic mess! I think I've mentioned it before but I actually made a DnD character based off him, a wood elf wild magic sorcerer. My hubby is the DM and was ecstatic when he learned I was going with wild magic. He was like, "Oh Chaos!" Anyway, I digress. Elia really does change the dynamic times infinity. Solas has to juggle her in the equation now as well as Rosa and Tal. Plus I just delight in tossing him into situations where he has to dad!

Cookie! Thank you for reviewing! Yes, Rosa had a really hard time last chapter. Tal was the same in RST, when Rosa literally had to sleep spell him to get him to leave with the rest of the Inquisition. I think if Rosa didn't have Elia to worry about she would have stayed to fight at Tal's side. It was only the need to protect Elia that forced her to leave. Good news! I intend to keep Dorian and Tal bantering, too! I just hope I can do Dorian's wonderful wit justice.

Whitewolf, I hope I can keep surprising you! LOL


End file.
